


Lost in a Memory

by The_Chronicler



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-25
Updated: 2017-08-25
Packaged: 2018-12-19 16:07:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 13
Words: 47,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11901279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Chronicler/pseuds/The_Chronicler
Summary: Reid is the only witness to a crime. If only he could remember what crime that was. Not to mention just who exactly Spencer Reid is.





	1. Chapter 1

Red and blue lights flickered on top of the sheriff's car, lightening the morning with a rotation of color.

Agent Derek Morgan squinted at the bright light. "Looked like they called in the big guns." he teased, always amused by the backwoods sheriff's big scenes.

Agent Hotch was not amused. Of course his phone had rung at three o'clock on a cold February Monday morning, waking up his baby girl, just to tell him nothing more than that he needed to be at a crime sight.

He was irritated.

Mad even.

Everything but amused.

They had been called to the side of a country road. Beside the road was a forest gully, and at the bottom of the gully was an old, abandon shack where the local law had centered their attentions. And on the porch of the shack, in nothing more than pajama pants and a wet t-shirt, was somebody they did not expect to see.

"Reid?" Hotch mumbled, confused at seeing the youngest of their team out here. He had thought he had been the only one called. Morgan was only here because he had called him.

Hey, Reid, buddy!" Morgan greeted, waving his hand as he started down the rough trail. "What the hell you doing out here?"

But the agent didn't look up. Didn't even acknowledged their presence.

"Derek." Hotch called to his friend, slowing him down. Beyond recognizing their team mate, he also noticed the condition of their team mate.

And now he knew why he had been called.

Morgan glanced back at him. He paused when he saw the concerned look. Turning back to their young doctor, he too took in his condition.

The boy's feet were bare, his toes starting to turn a blue color. His exposed legs up to his shins, were scratched and bruised. His arms wee, likewise, scratched and bruised, his wrists rubbed raw. His fingertips were red, a couple even bloody. His hair was disheveled, as if he had just gotten out of bed. The knees of his pant legs were stained red, as well as a few splatters on his t-shirt. His arms were wrapped around himself, his teeth chattering.

The sheriff stood just to one side of the kid, giving directions to a couple of his deputies when he spotted the two FBI agents. Waving his men away to do whatever it was they had to do, he nodded up to the men. "Agent Hotch?"

"Sheriff Jackson." Hotch confirmed as he stepped pass Morgan and lead the way down.

Jackson tilted his head. "This your kid?" he wanted to know right off the bat.

Hotch frowned, not at all happy with his kid being referred to as a kid by anyone other than one of his other kids. Still, the business at hand was… "Yes, he is." He stopped in front of the sheriff, allowing Morgan to move on to deal with Reid. "What's going on here?" he wanted to know.

"That's what we would like to know." the sheriff admitted.

Morgan had moved to stand in front of Reid. "Hey, buddy." he greeted again, this time more cautious. When there was no response, he set a hand on the kid's shoulder. "Reid?"

Reid jumped, scooting aside, his head coming up so quickly, Morgan could hear his neck pop. Big eyes stared up at him, wide and frightened.

"Woe!" Morgan quickly held his hands up. "Easy, man. It's just me."

Reid look him up and down slowly, before, finally, relaxing just enough that the shivering returned. He dropped his eyes in that timid expression he seemed to have when he worried he had done something wrong.

Morgan glanced back at Hotch, concerned and confused.

In turn, Hotch looked at the sheriff again. "Why is he here? Why isn't he on his way to the hospital?"

Sheriff Jackson huffed. "I got myself a shack covered in blood, a kid in his pj.s sporting an FBI id who barely said a word since we found him, knee deep in snow and mud and blood… I'm dealing with things as they come!" He waved a hand in the air. "Called you, didn't I!"

Morgan ground his teeth. Pulling his own coat off he started to swing it around Reid's shoulders.

The boy flinched, but didn't move away while the man settled the warm coat around him. Curiously, he looked up at him again, watching him as if wondering why he had done what he had.

Deciding he had no more information for them, Hotch turned away from the sheriff and to his men. "Reid, what happened here?" he demanded. "What are you doing here?"

Reid didn't look at him, his eyes still locked on Morgan.

Morgan sighed. "Kid's in shock or something." He snapped his fingers beside his head. "Come on, buddy. Talk to me."

Reid's eyes snapped to his fingers, then back at his face. His brow wrinkled. "I know you?" he whispered.

Again Morgan glanced at Hotch. Then looked back. "Yea, man. It's me, Derek Morgan. I'm your buddy. Your pal."

"You are?" Reid asked, tilting his head to one side as if processing that information. "May I ask you something?"

Morgan nodded. "Yea. Sure. Anything."

Reid looked at Hotch, licking his lips, then back at Morgan. "Do you know who I am?"

Morgan's jaw dropped.

Hotch turned on the sheriff. "Hospital! Now!" he snapped.

J.J. practically had to jog to keep up with Gideon. It was not the ideal way she liked to read a file. "Turned out that the blood on the floor of the shack was not human blood, but animal. Quite a bit, too."  
"We're all animals." Gideon pointed out, though it had absolutely nothing to do with what was on his mind. Taking long strides down the hospital hall, he barely listened to the girl who struggled to keep up.

JJ decided not to elaborate on that little comment. Instead, she continued with the report. "No carcasses were found at the site." She flipped the page. "Shack was abandon some fifteen years ago, occasionally used by the local teenagers. Chased a bum out a few months ago, but otherwise…"

"Hotch!" Gideon called as they turned a corner a spotted the agent standing in front of an observation window, talking with a doctor. "Where is he?" he wanted to know right then and there.

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head at the window. "He's resting right now." he assured, though it wasn't much of an assurance. After all, with all the behavioral whats'-up in the man's head, Gideon would be the first to point out that….

"Resting?" The older agent, stepped up to the window a gazed in. "What about alright? Fine? Safe and sound?" His gray eyes instantly locked on his protégée with in the room beyond the observation window. At once he knew why the other agent didn't use any of those words: alright, fine….

Reid sat on a hospital bed, wearing hospital garb. His knees were pulled to his chest, legs crossed at the ankles. His arms were wrapped tightly around his legs, his chin resting on his knees. White bandages were wrapped around his wrists and ankles. His exposed skin was almost shiny and white, very pale even for him. At his feet, folded across the bed, was the same coat Morgan had wrapped around his shoulders only two hours earlier. His eyes were locked on the nurse that worked at the foot of the bed, preparing a syringe to take some blood.

Standing in the corner, his arms crossed over his chest, looking over protective, was Morgan. Every few twitches, and the FBI agent would speak softly to Reid, catching the boy's attention again, and, for a moment, calming him.

"Gideon." Hotch called his attention. "He doesn't know who he is. Or who any of us are."

Gideon frowned, looking at the man. "Amnesia?" he wondered. "How?"

Hotch shrugged and nodded to the doctor who waited patiently on the other side of Gideon. "We were about to find out." he pointed out. "Dr. Wesslim."

Instantly, Gideon's head snapped about, his sharp eyes slamming into the doctor. "Amnesia?" he repeated, making sure she was aware of the fact that that question had been asked and needed to be answered. "How?"

Dr. Wesslim shook her head. "As of yet, we have found no head trauma. Numerous bruises, minor cuts and scrapes up and down his arms and legs like he crawled through thistles or something of the like… but, no, nothing that would cause amnesia."

Gideon looked back at the boy in the room. "Then why…"

"His eyes are dilated." the doctor continued. "He has shivers. Both his arms show several needle pricks."

Gideon looked at her again. "He was drugged?"

"That would be my guess."

"Guess?" JJ put in. "What do you mean guess? You're the doctor. Shouldn't you know by now?"

Dr. Wesslim shrugged. "He's been very…. skittish about allowing us to touch him which makes a theral examination problematic at best. He is right out terrified of needles which makes taking a blood test without hurting him or destroying what little trust there is…"

"Not likely." Gideon finished for her. One more time, he turned to watch his young agent as he watched the nurse slowly, cautiously approach him, speaking soft words of encouragement. "What is he doing?" he wanted to know, pointing at the nurse.

The nurse had finished prepping his syringe and had nodded to another, bigger, burly nurse. The two were closing in on their patient.

The doctor also turned to look. "Kevin is attempting to get the blood test we so very badly need if we are to discover just how we can help…"

"Not that way!" Gideon snapped, suddenly pushing pass her and hurrying for the door leading into the room. He practically kicked the door in, sending it swinging open to slam into the wall behind it.

Morgan spun about, ready to defend little Reid, but stopped when he saw it was Gideon.

Reid leaped right off the bed, stumbling back until he hit the wall. His eyes instantly focused on the floor, his bangs falling over his brow. One arm wrapped tightly around his middle, the other braced on the first, his fingers coming up to his mouth, tapping his lips nervously.

Nurse Kevin and his cohort only gave Gideon a glance before changing directions and following Reid, cornering him.

"Hey!" Morgan snapped at them when he realized what was happening. "Back off, man!"

Gideon was already across the room. Grabbing Nurse Kevin's shoulder, he yanked him away from his youngest agent, snatching the syringe as he did. "Not this way!" he said again, shoving the nurse even further away and toward the door.

"What is the meaning of this?" Dr. Wesslim demanded as she followed Agent Hotchner into the room.

JJ grabbed her arm from behind, keeping her from interfering with what ever her fellow agents were doing in the room.

Instantly Hotch pointed a finger at the second nurse who, seeing his partner manhandled, was coming at Gideon from behind. "Stay right there!" he warned.

The nurse froze, glancing about at the FBI agents, realizing that that was it. There was no protesting, no dealing with the situation. These men were serious. And he was outnumbered.

With a sigh, he raised his hands in a sign of surrender. "Hey, guys, we were just gonna do a blood test. Gotta be done if we're gonna help the kid." he tried.

"Not that way." Hotch repeated. With a flick of his wrist, he directed the nurse toward the door.

Yanking her arm free from JJ, the doctor stepped aside, letting her nurses out. "Agent Hotchner!" she continued to protest. "This is still my patient!"

"He's my agent!" Gideon reminded her. "And no one is going to back him into a corner!"

"Give us a moment, doctor." Hotch quickly intervened, turning to the doctor. He took the edge of the door and motioned that he was gonna close it. "JJ would you please discuss our… "

JJ nodded, taking the hint. "Yes. There may be some media inquiries." Again taking the doctor's arm and leading her out, she asked "Now, we need to know what you will say if the media asks you about Dr. Reid." She glanced back over her shoulder at the men as she lead Wesslim away.

Hotch closed the door, then turned to throw a glare at Gideon.

"We let them do that…" Gideon started to explain.

"And whatever trust there was would be gone." Hotch agreed. "Just, on occasion, would you mind warning me?"

"Woe, woe, buddy." Morgan was soothing the more than a little agitated Reid. He slowly approached the boy, his hands held out, offering him the safety Reid had almost felt before.

Reid was pacing along the wall, his shoulder never leaving contact. His teeth were working on his finger tips, his eyes locked on the floor, doing everything possible to avoid looking at anything that remotely resembled human.

Morgan stepped in front of him, stopping his pacing. "Hey, Reid, it's alright, buddy." he tried to assure.

Reid skidded to a halt before slamming into the bigger agent's chest. He started to back up along the wall. "Alright?" he hissed. "Nothing is alright."

Gideon spun about to look at Reid, startled by the sharp anger in his tone. Rarely had he ever known Reid to get angry. And he just might be the one person in the world who knew him best. "Morgan, give him some space."

Morgan hesitated, glancing back at their team leader. But, bowing to his expertise, he backed away to stand beside Hotch. Shaking his head, he apologized to the other agent. "Wasn't paying attention to the nurses. Was watchin' Reid. I never thought they'd pull some crap like that."

Hotch nodded once. "It's alright." he assured. Leaning closer, dropping his voice to a whisper that only Morgan could hear, he explained "Gives us the hero position."

Morgan glanced at him sharply. "Hero position? You wanna play Reid!"

Hotch didn't bother to answer. Morgan would understand if he just took a moment to think about it.

"Reid?" Gideon called gently.

The young agent spun away from the sound of his voice, sliding along the wall, before spinning about again, his eyes always on the floor, nibbling on his finger tips.

Carefully, Gideon sat on the edge of the bed, being sure not to make any big movements. "Reid." he said again, his voice strong and commanding, knowing that, even if Reid didn't remember him, responding was part of his nature. "Look at me."

Sure as rain, hazel eyes flicked up, catching a glimpse of the man, before hiding away behind bangs once more.

Gideon smiled, the littlest bit of a glance enough to fill him with triumph. "Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid., FBI's Behavior Analysis Unit. You are a profiler." he spoke as if reading from a file. Not that he would need a file. He knew Reid.

He had found him.

Discovered him even.

Counseled him in where to aim his studies.

Brought him to the FBI BAU.

He didn't need a file to tell Reid who he was.

He knew it by heart.

Knew him by heart.

Again the hazel eyes glanced up at him. They narrowed.

Gideon dipped his head slightly, trying to look up into those eyes. "You are twenty-four years old. You have three doctorates. You're favorite color is green."

Reid's head shook. "Why are you telling me this?" he whispered.

"Because…" Gideon flashed his famous half smile. "I want you to know that we really do know you. That we really are your friends."

Reid looked pass Gideon to Morgan, remembering the offered coat. Then quickly dropped his eyes again. "I… I don't remember." He leaned his head against the wall. "800-223-2365." he mumbled.

"What's that?" the older agent asked. "A phone number?"

"Czechoslovak Air Lines, East Coast." Reid answered. "220.46 pounds equals 100 Kg. American Woman's shoe size 9 equals that of a British size7 ½. Mars is the Roman name for Aries, the god of war."

"Reid?" Gideon interrupted the rambling.

The boy looked up at him. "Why do I know all that stuff, but I don't know who I am?"

Again the older agent smiled that half smile of his. "Because you are a very smart young man."

Reid's head tilted. "You…. You're Dr. Jason Gideon." he breathed.

Gideon straightened. "You remember?"

Reid quickly shook his head. "No… yes… An article in Washington Post, 1992. You profiled a kidnapper, saved a little girl." He squeezed his eyes closed, reaching up to rub his knuckles in his temple, swaying slightly.

Gideon reached out a hand, almost instinctively, to offer support. "Reid?"

He jerked away from the offered hand, slamming his elbow back against the wall. "Don't!" Reid snapped. "Don't do that!" He threw a glare at Gideon. "I don't remember you! I don't remember me! I don't remember anything!" He was suddenly yelling, frustration, confusion, fear, the damn pounding in his head, the fast beating of his heart all becoming too much. "What happened to me?" he demanded.

Gideon's offered hand remained stretched out toward him. "That's what I'd like to find out." he explained calmly. "But you need to trust me. You need to let us do our job, gather evidence, investigate. You need to help us."

Reid's shoulders slumped. "But I don't remember anything." he practically wined. "How can I help?"

"Let me take some blood." The syringe appeared in Gideon's hand.

Reid's eyes went big, locking on the evil contraption. He shook his head, panic rising up in his chest. Arms crossing, his hands rubbed over the needle marks that already tattooed his skin.

:"Reid!" Gideon quickly commanded. "Reid look at me!"

The hazel eyes snapped up again.

"I will not touch you if you do not want me to. But, the only way you or I are going to find out what happened, what is wrong with your memory, is if we take a blood test." He held out his empty hand. "You need to make a decision right here and right now. Do you want to know? Or do you want to go on not knowing anything about you, your friends, your life…?"

Reid closed his eyes again, his bottom limp trembling. But he took a deep breath, set his jaw, and, finally, slowly as if forcing his body to obey, laid his arm in Gideon's grasp.

Gideon smiled, his fingers gently wrapping around the offered arm. He knew it took a lot of strength, a lot of bravery, and, maybe, just a shadow of a memory for Reid to surrender to him.

Even when his memory was intact, it took a great deal for the kid to trust anyone. And, when he did, it was never anyone other than his team mates.

It took Gideon only a breath to get the blood sample, and, he proudly noted, not a flinch, It had been a long time since he had wielded a syringe, and that was usually injecting, not taking. It was good to know he still had what it takes.

Glancing back, he handed the syringe to the waiting Hotch who quickly headed out of the room to find the doctor.

Though blood draw finished, Gideon didn't release the arm, nor did Reid pull back. So he took advantage of the moment of trust to get a better look at the marks on his agent's arms.

The scratches and scrapes that Dr. Wesslim had spoken of were tiny, inch long marks, red where the flesh was cut, slightly blue around the edges. Each one was straight and uniformed, exactly like the others.

"Morgan," Gideon called over his shoulder. "Does this look like thistle to you?"

Reid's eyes snapped open again. He glanced sharply from Gideon to the now approaching Morgan and back again.

Morgan leaned over Gideon's shoulder. "No." he said slowly. "Is… it a pattern?"

The older agent looked up at Reid and held out his free hand. "Reid, may I see you other arm?"

Reid hesitated, again glancing from one man to another. His fingers flexed nervously, his foot tapping full of a drug induced energy. But, finally, taking a shaky breath, he obliged, slowly unwrapping his other arm from around his middle, and holding it out beside the first.

Gideon stiffened. "Alpha and omega." he breathed. "Beginning and end."

Morgan's eyes flared with sudden anger. "Someone carved on his arms?" he demanded, though he was seeing the answer right there in front of him. "Tortured him?"

Gideon shook his head. "Too light, too precise. This wasn't done to cause pain." His eyes raised to take in the boy before him. "They were sending us a message."

Reid blinked, head tilting to one side, curious for a moment. But, being uncomfortable so close to men he just couldn't remember, he started to pull back again, back up against the wall.

Gideon let him go, knowing that holding him would only do harm. Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, he stood and turned toward Morgan. "Find J.J. I want pictures of his arms, legs, and any other marks on his body analyzed. Find out what else there is."

"He's trying to prove how smart he is." Reid mumbled.

The two men looked back at him. "What do you mean?" Gideon asked when the boy offered no more.

Reid glanced up at them, then quickly down. His fingers rubbed at the marks as if trying to make them go away. "He wants to show everyone how smart he is." He shrugged. "He thinks he's smart 'cause he knows things like alpha and omega, but, truth, a school child knows alpha and omega." He looked up at Gideon. "Like using big words to impress the people he keeps close. Like stealing a car when stealing a bike is no longer impressive. Like taking on us…. .you…" His voice faded away as he realized he wasn't sure who whoever would be taking on. Hell, he still didn't know who "us" or "you" or even "me" was! Again his eyes dropped, his bangs falling over his face.

Gideon watched him a moment before saying to Morgan. "That's the start of our profile."

"Gideon…. He doesn't even know who he is." Morgan reminded him.

"He doesn't need to know who he is to profile an unsub." Gideon reached out and took Reid's hands, stopping his fidgeting fingers from working on the cuts, making them worse.

Reid jerked away, but not far, his eyes coming up to meet the older agent's. If his mind wasn't so clouded, his memories lost in a thick, cold fog, he could almost recognized the gentle and caring expression, the worry in those eyes. The warmth the older man offered was almost familiar, like a favorite blanket or sweater, protecting him from the elements.

Damn it hurt how close to familiar he was, yet the memory so far out of reach.

Reid caught his lower lip between his teeth for a breath, before admitting out of the blue "I think I'm gonna throw up." Spinning away, he hurriedly stumbled to the sink down the wall and emptied what little contents were in his stomach down the drain.

Gideon closed his eyes, dropping his chin to his chest, and sighed. "Morgan, tell Hotch to take Elle and check out Reid's apartment. And…" He paused as Reid heaved again. "Let Dr. Wesslim know her patient needs her."

Wincing with sympathy, Morgan nodded once and hurried from the room.

Elle took the steps two at a time to catch up with Hotch. "Car's still in its spot. Dry underneath. Between yesterday's rain and this morning's snow…"  
"it hasn't moved in the last two days… at least." Hotch held the fire door open his fellow agent. "Which, considering he does not go out on his own, does not give us a whole lot."

"Except that, how far out he was found, bare foot, in the snow… he didn't walk there." Elle pointed out.

Stopping in front of the door at the end of the hall, Hotch glanced back at her. "He did not walk." he agreed. "Someone took him." Unlocking the door, he started to push it open.

Suddenly it was pulled open from inside.

Instantly, both agents reached for their weapons, but stopped just short of actually drawing.

A beautiful young woman stood before them in the doorway. Thick, soft, wavy auburn hair floated about her shoulders, striking green eyes twinkled at them, perfect red lips formed the most perfect pout. Her lightly tanned skin was smooth and flawless, her nails polished. Everything about her right down to the sweat pants and tank top were right off the cover of just about any style magazine.

"Oh." she squeaked, jumping at the appearance of the agents. "Um…. Can I help you?" she asked.

Hotch raised one eye brow. "yes." he answered. He drew his badge quicker than he could of drawn his gun. "FBI. Special Agent Hotchner. This is Special Agent Greenaway."

The woman's eyes widen with recognition. "You work with Spencer." She jabbed out a hand. "I'm Abby." she offered with a bright smile as if they should recognize her name as easily as she recognized theirs. When they didn't seem to know her, her smile wavered. Tilting her head to the next door down, she explained "Next door neighbor. I take care of Galen when Spencer is out of town."

"Galen?" Elle repeated. Last time she hear, Reid was tripping over the thought of maybe, one day, possibly asking a girl out. Now he has a model house sitting? And house sitting who?

Abby's smile regained its strength when she shrugged one shoulder. "Yea. Galen. Can't expect the little guy to look after himself now, can we?" Then she frowned, her hands coming to rest on her hips. "And, hey, just where is Spencer anyhow? I mean, I found Galen out all by himself the other night and he wasn't home so I took Galen in myself and he didn't even leave water down!" She shook her head. "I know he gets distracted, but, come on, a little baby kitten needs his belly full."

"Galen is a kitten?"

Again the perfect smile returned. "The cutest bundle of hyper fur you ever did see."

Hotch interrupted with "You have a key to Reid's apartment?"

The woman nodded. "Sure." She shrugged. "I mean, you guys are headin' out at the drop of a hat, he usually can't wait around for me to get home, so…"

"Elle…"

Elle held her hand out to the woman. "Abby, would you be willing to sit down with me and answer some questions?"

Abby shrugged. "Sure. Why not?" She paused, seemingly to become aware of the agents' seriousness for the first time. "Is…. Is something wrong? Is Spencer alright?"

"Can we use your apartment?" Elle continued, leading the woman down the hall.

The neighbor out of the way, Hotch slipped his sun glasses off and cautiously stepped into Reid's apartment.

It was larger than he had expected, taking up the entire end of the building, windows on three sides. The door opened up into a large living area with little furniture. In the right far corner was a small baby grand piano, stacked high with books. In the lower right corner was a long couch, a small TV stand sitting in front of it. Running along the wall was a thin staircase leading to the loft bedroom. The far left corner was a tiny dining room table, sporting several books, a laptop, and a tipped over coffee mug. The kitchen was in the lower left corner, complete with a wall oven, fancy and polished range sitting in the middle of a marble island, and a breakfast bar with three stools. Every where, there were stacks of books, files, pencils, note pads… all the usual signs of one over educated Dr. Spencer Reid.

Hotch stood just inside to door, letting his eyes slowly , carefully, inspect the room, searching for a sign, any sign, that something was wrong. He had to smile, looking about at the scattered books. Anyone else's home, for the exception of, perhaps, Gideon, and Hotch would of classed the place as ransacked.

Of course the kitchen was spotless. Maybe never even used. Though there was a pair of Chinese take out boxes on the marble island.

Hotch frowned. Stepping over, he took a closer look at the take out boxes. Un-open, the sticker still intact over the flaps. A rather rancid smell rose up from the boxes, noting that they had been sitting out for sometime.

On the counter beside the food, was Reid's cell phone. It was sitting open as if some one had started to make a call, but, changing his mind at the last minute, just tossed it aside.

On the floor in the kitchen was a cat food bag. A bottom corner had been clawed open, spilling out a handful of tiny green, yellow, and brown bits out on the floor.

On the end of the breakfast bar was a plastic place mat with two, small bowls sitting on it. One was damp, a few drops of water puddled at its deepest spot. The other was dusted with cat food crumbs.

"Anything?"

Hotch glanced back as Elle stepped into the apartment. Folding his sun glasses up and sliding them into his breast pocket, he looked down at the to-go boxes again. "He hasn't been here for a few couple of days." he observed.

Elle nodded as she wandered the living area. "That's what Abby said." She paused in front of the piano. "Reid's also a musician?" she asked, raising an eye brow at the lead agent.

Hotch smiled slightly. "Would you be surprised?"

The woman also smiled. "Are you ever not surprised with how much he crams into that head of his?" She turned and looked up the stair. "Checked the bedroom yet?"

Hotch shook his head. With one last look around the kitchen, he turned and headed up the stairs. "Don't touch the wall. Might be finger prints." he advised when Elle followed.

The bedroom loft was slender but long. Most of it was taken up by a large desk adorned with a computer and even more books. The double bed was pressed up into the corner beside the bathroom. A dresser and wardrobe sat against the rail on the other side of the bathroom door from the bed.

"Hotch." Elle warned. "The dresser."

Hotch was already looking at the open drawer, an empty gun holster on the floor directly below. A small hand mirror also laid on the floor, pushed off the dresser corner at some time.

"Where's the gun?" Elle wondered, glancing about.

"Computer's still on." Hotch observed, pointing to the green light beside the power button. "Check it out. Maybe he was working on something."

Elle nodded once as she headed for the desk. Already having rubber gloves in place, she tapped the cordless mouse.

Instantly the screen came alive.

Elle leaned over the back of the chair. "Looks like he was checking his e-mail." Another click of the mouse. "Mostly spam…. A couple of Please contact' from a Yahoo group."

"What's the name?" Hotch wondered as he opened the door and glanced about the bathroom. Seeing nothing of interest, he returned to searching the bedroom.

"Umm…. Called the Brainy University." Elle pulled the chair back.

A startled yowl came from the seat of the chair.

"Damn!" Elle involuntarily cried, hopping back.

"What?" Hotch spun about, ready to defend her.

But Elle grinned sheepishly. Reaching down, she scooped up a small, gray kitten with huge green eyes, and cradled him in her arms.

Hotch smiled, relaxing. "Galen, I presumed." Then he frowned. "Abby was supposed to be taking care of him, wasn't she?"

Elle nodded. "Maybe she takes care of him here. Just stopping in a couple of times."

"Then why was the food and water bowls empty?"

Elle looked at him, also frowning now.

"Is she in her apartment?" Hotch asked, turning and starting for the stairs.

"I left her at her door. Told her to wait there for us." Elle answered, setting the kitten down on the chair again and following Hotch.

They hurried down the stairs and out the front door.

"Which door?" Hotch asked, pausing to wait for Elle.

She stepped pass him and knocked on the third door down. "Abby?" She tried the door knob.

It was locked.

Hotch stepped to the side of the door, indicating that Elle should do the same thing. He reached out and knocked on the door, calling out "FBI. Open the door!"

There was a click.

The door opened just a crack.

A young man peered out. "Yes, sir?" he asked cautiously.

Elle and Hotch exchanged glances, before Elle asked "Sir, is Abby available?"

"Abby?" the man asked.

"Damn it!" Hotch cursed, spinning about and stomping back to Reid's apartment.

With a groan, Elle flipped open her cell phone and started dialing.


	2. Two

CHAPTER: 2?

J.J. slowly opened the hospital door, careful to make as little sound as humanly possible. Peeking inside her heart actually fluttered when she saw the topic of everyone's concern sleeping peacefully on the bed, a light blanket thrown over the top of him, his hands tucked under his head.

It fluttered again when she saw everyone's father figure leaning back in a chair beside the bed, his feet braced up on the foot of the bed, his head back, his eyes closed, his breathing calm and even. Gideon had fallen asleep while looking after his youngest.

If it wasn't for the situation, J.J. would have been tempted to snap a keep-sake picture.

But, as for the situation…

She stepped over to Gideon and laid a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Gideon?" she whispered, glancing quickly to Reid, assuring herself that she hadn't disturb him.

Gideon's eyes instantly snapped open, making the girl wonder if he had been asleep in the first place. He looked up at her, blinked, then looked at the bed and his sleeping agent. Dropping his feet to the floor, he stood up and stepped over to the bed. He laid a gentle hand on the boy's head, assuring himself that Reid was indeed just sleeping and hadn't, god forbid, slipped away from him.

Reid adjusted slightly, mumbling something, but, slipped silently back into a deep sleep.

Gideon's eyes closed lightly, breathing a sigh of relief. Then he turned to J.J. and waved to the door. Once outside, the door carefully closed behind them, Gideon crossed his arms over his chest and offered the girl a half smile. "What do we have?"

J.J. took a deep breath and got down to business. "The blood in the shack has nothing to do with Reid. Only yesterday morning the locals chased a couple of poachers out of there. They had been draining their kills, thus all the blood, before loading it in the truck street side."

Gideon nodded. "How did they find Reid?" he wanted to know.

"A driver called in to the sheriff's office, claiming that the car in front of her was driving erratically before tossing what she assumed was a trash bag out the passenger side back door." J.J. shrugged. "They have a fairly tight neighborhood watch, called it in right away, and the locals hurried out to check it out. They didn't find any trash, but, knowing the shack was the local trouble spot, they thought to check it out… just in case."

"And they found Reid." the older agent concluded.

J.J. nodded. "He was kneeling in the blood, unresponsive and with no id. They ran his fingerprints, found out who he was, called Hotch."

Gideon nodded. "And here we are." He reached up to scratch his chin before asking "What did Hotch find at Reid's apartment?"

J.J. shuffled slightly. "An un-sub." she mumbled, glancing away.

The older agent frowned, not liking her tone. An un-sub, another piece of this puzzle, very possibly the answer to this puzzle. So why the oh-oh sort of tone. "And?" he coaxed.

"She got away." the girl answered just a little too quickly, like she just wanted to get it over with quick, like pulling off a band aid.

Gideon's eyes narrowed. "She got away?" he repeated.

Okay, mistakes happen.

Elle was young and still learning a rope here and there.

Hotch wasn't super agent even if he was the closest thing the FBI had to one.

Still…

"They're waiting for a crime scene unit to arrive at the apartment before they go any further." J.J. explained after deciding not to go further into the "she got away" information. Hotch and Elle were both very capable of explaining that for themselves without her taking any of the heat.

Not that they were overly afraid of heat from Gideon. He was everyone's father figure.

But they were talking about his youngest here, and you didn't need to be a profiler to know how a father feels about his youngest.

Gideon nodded slightly. "There was evidence of a crime then? There at the apartment?"

"They didn't go into details other than the un-sub was found on the property and Reid's weapon seems to be missing." J.J. shrugged. "One, by itself is, of course, suspicious enough. Together…." She left the obvious unsaid.

Gideon nodded slightly. Stepping pass her to the observation window, he looked in on his sleeping agent. Crossing his arms over his chest once again, he took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Someone took him from his home, drugged him, cut on him, and…. What? Were they done with him so discarded him? And, if so, what did they want from him? Did they get it?"

"Or did he escape?" J.J. added, coming to stand beside him, looking through the window at Reid, trying to imagine what he must have gone through and not really wanting to know. She didn't want to know that the horrors that they handled every day as part of some one else's lives could actually be part of one of their own.

"Escape." Gideon breathed. "And, if so, do they still want him? Will they come after him again?"

J.J. wrapped her arms around herself and shivered.

Gideon glanced at her. "Are you alright?"

She offered him a sad smile. "I was just wondering how he must have felt, what he was thinking…." She shook her head slightly. "They had him for three days, Gideon." She looked up at him. "Did he hear a sound and thought, maybe, finally, we had come to rescue him? Did he wonder why we didn't stop them from hurting him?" Again she shivered. "He must have been scared to death."

"Kid's tougher than that." Morgan offered as he and walked up. Morgan stopped beside J.J. and hung a friendly arm around her shoulders, flashing an encouraging smile.

"Beside it's doubtful he remembered enough from day one to be scared." Dr. Wesslim explained as she came to stand beside Gideon, looking in on her patient. She smiled slightly. "He's sleeping." she observed, taking a moment to make a note on her clip board. When she turned her attention to the other agents, she continued her explanation. "Dr. Reid's blood shows many different deteriorate levels of a compound of drugs, indicating that he has been receiving continuous doses for at least sixty hours. At the rate of deterioration, I would say about every two hours, just as the previous dose would be weakening."

"A compound of what drugs?" Gideon asked. "And is it the reason he can't remember?"

"It is the reason, at least in most part." Wesslim confirmed. "We're still trying to identify all the individual ingredients, but the bulk of it is a complex blend of Xanaxhydroxybutyrate, Rohypnol, and Kerasine."

J.J. frowned. "Rohypnol? The date-rape drug?"

Morgan's head snapped around. "He wasn't…"

The doctor shook her head. "Keep in mind that I have yet to perform a theral exam, but, watching him move, his reactions… I would say no, Dr. Reid has not been raped."

J.J. let out her breath in a long sigh of relief. "Thank god."

Morgan was likewise relieved, running a hand over his face, wiping away the sweat that had suddenly appeared on his brow.

Gideon was scratching his chin. "Xanax, a tranquilizer. Hydroxybutyrate and Rohypnol, both memory effecting. Kerasine…?" He paused, glancing at the doctor. "How do you know about that?"

Dr. Wesslim continued to look through the window at the sleeping boy. "We are a major hospital in Quantico, Virginia. We hold all medical contracts with every government agency in the state. What makes you think I would not know about a government tested drug that makes the subject highly susceptible to hypnotic suggestion and/or brainwashing?"

"Someone was trying to brainwash our kid?" Morgan growled, knowing more than he ever really wanted to know about the tactics used by that particular arm of government.

"Brainwashing?" J.J. repeated. She shook her head. "Why would…. anyone want to brainwash Reid?"

Gideon straightened. "One answer leads to more questions." He turned to Wesslim. "How do we bring him down?"

Dr. Wesslim sighed. "I hesitate to add any more chemicals to a system that is already over dosed. I think, at this point, we should just leave him be to come down naturally. We'll treat the withdraw symptoms with mild treatments, keep him comfortable, under control." She finally looked at Gideon. "It may be a rough withdraw, and I can't give you any answers about his memory until the drug is completely out of his system. I won't know what damage has been done until then, whether it is permanent or not."

"How long?"

Wesslim shrugged. "At this rate of dissipation… sixteen, twenty-four hours. " She paused. "In all honesty, I have seen these drugs used before, but not in this mix and not with a brain as unique as Dr. Reid's. We are in uncharted waters here."

Gideon nodded. After a moment of thought, he turned to his two agents. "Stay here with Reid. Talk with him, try to jog his memory. There is only one person who can tell us who did this. And that who just might come back to make sure he doesn't tell anyone." That said, he turned and started to walk away.

"Where are you going?" Morgan called after him.

"The shack." Gideon answered. He paused, turning back to make it very clear "Look after him, Morgan!" Then he was gone and down the hall.

Elle cradled the kitten in her arms, scratching him behind his ears.  
She was rewarded with a loud, steady purr, declawed paws stretching out, kneeding her arm.

Elle's jaw set, her teeth grinding, her eyes narrowing.

"Stop that." Hotch ordered in that dry, off handed tone, as he carefully turned the page of a file that had been laying open on Reid's kitchen table.

Elle glanced at him sharply, startled by the first words he had spoken to her in what seemed a very long time. "Stop what?" she wondered.

With a sigh, Hotch turned to face her. "Stop blaming yourself." he answered, crossing his arms over his chest. "It does Reid, nor this investigation any good if you stand there and kick yourself for what you nor I can do anything about now."

"I let her get away." she reminded him. "I didn't even wait around to see her actually go into the apartment."

"You were worried about Reid." the other agent pointed out.

"We all are." Elle protested. "You didn't screw up."

"Yes, I did." Hotch admitted.

Elle's eyes narrowed. "You did?" she repeated. Her eyes shifted, trying to simply picture the perfect FBI agent screwing up in the least. Damn, even Hotch's tie hung straight!

Hotch took a deep breath before answering with "She was an un-sub. An un-sub inside the apartment of a victim of a crime. I should of never left you alone with her."

"Humph." Elle huffed, agreeing. Obviously she shouldn't have been left with the un-sub if she couldn't keep her from esca…

"That isn't what I meant." Hotch quickly stopped her thinking. "What if she was armed? What if she had an accomplice? I should of made sure she was secured and my partner was safe, before moving on to the apartment." He looked straight in her eye. "Your screw up has potentially lost our un-sub. Mine could of potentially killed you, killed us both." That said and taken care of, he turned back to the file. "So, stop it. We don't have time for blame." Silently reprimanding himself for spending so much time mentally kicking himself and not focusing on the papers he was flipping through.

Elle took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Fine." she mumbled. Shifting the kitten to her left arm, she turned her attention to the lap top. "I don't know what to do with this thing. It's password protected." she complained after a moment. She looked at Hotch. "I never pictured Reid as being the secretive type. Quiet yea. But password?" She tapped the screen. "There's fifteen symbols in this thing!"

Hotch nodded, only half listening. He suggested "Perhaps Garcia will have better luck." Then he held up a paper. "What do you know about Senator Domas?"

Elle chuckled. "Besides the fact we used to call him Dumb Ass back in school?"

Hotch, in perfect agent form, did not smile. "Besides that."

The woman shrugged slightly. "A retired senator of Virginia, now teaches legal ethics at the FBI Academy. He's a fire and brim stone sort of character. Lectures about the secret honor of doing good whether or not… particularly not… anyone knows about it." She closed the lap top and looked at him. "Why?"

"Because his name is all over these letters."

"Ol' Dumb Ass? Why?" She picked up one of the files for herself and began to thumb through it.

"Looks like general information. Place of birth, parents, education." Hotch flipped a page in the file. "He didn't gather this information. It was being e-mailed to him." He glanced across the table at her. "What was the name of that Yahoo group?"

"Brainy University." Elle answered. "Ask me a little swagger for Reid. I don't see him as being a boaster."

Hotch held up the paper he had been reading. "The e-mails are from the Brainy University." He set it aside and took up another file and opened it. "More of the same. Basic, public information.

Elle looked at the file she held, set it aside and grabbed another. Then another. "They're all the same. Even repeating." She looked up at Hotch. "Why does he have all this? Not like it's hard to get or overly sought after information."

Hotch rose to his feet, gathering the files. "There are two possible sources for that answer."

Elle caught on, rising to her feet and picking up the lap top. "And one can't remember the answer."

"And the other may be the reason. We need to find this Brainy University." He started for the door, flipping open his phone as he went.

It was dark and cold.  
He couldn't feel his skin.

He couldn't feel his toes nor his fingers.

He couldn't feel his legs nor his arms.

He couldn't feel his head nor his chest.

He could almost see…

The shadow darker than what was behind it, but only slightly. It vibrated, keeping in rhythm with the purr below him, around him, everywhere.

He could almost hear…

Soft clicks, hisses, whistles…

Whispers?

Continues sound just low enough,

distant enough,

that he couldn't…

Quite…

put it…

together…

A sensation pierced the inside of his…

Had that been his arm?

Was it still his arm?

The shadows suddenly erupted in blinding flashes of light, striking at him with near physical blows. The soft clicks were gone, as were the hisses, and whistles, and whispers, replaced with an enraged screaming.

Air filled his lungs like a rush of icy air, chilling instantly the blood pumping through the muscles, creating sharp, painful icicles hanging off his ribs to dangle in his chest cavity.

He tried to hold his breath, tried not to jingle the icicles, terrified of what the sound they would make if they were to fall, crashing down to his toes.

He tried not to breath.

He held his breath until his chest burned and he just couldn't understand why the icicles weren't melting.

His heart thumped loudly, trying to make itself heard over the screaming, demanding air.

His ribs creaked and cracked under the weight of the ice.

And then it happened.

It had to happen.

He took a breath.

The screaming stopped,

The blinding light stopped.

The pounding of his heart stopped.

Then there was a chip,

A click…

A jingle…

And the icicles fell.

Fell…

Down…

Down….

Slicing through his muscels, piercing his gut, shivering down his legs, ricochet off his heals, and hit to tips of his toes with an earth shattering crash….

With a gasp, he shot up in the bed so violently he nearly fell off right off the side.

"Reid!" came a startled cry, a quick hand grabbing his arm, keeping him from falling.

His response was immediate panic. "Don't!" he snapped back, kicking the covers off the bed. Scrambling up on his knees, he snapped about to face his assumed attacker.

The woman who held his arm as gently as she could and still keep her hold looked as startled as he was by the sudden leap into the conscious world. Her bright blue eyes were wide, her bouncy blond hair still whooshing about from her sudden movement. Her sweet red lips moved as if trying to say what needed to be said, yet not knowing what, exactly, needed to be said.

Reid twisted his arm, trying to pull it free. "Let me go!" he growled at her.

"It's alright, Reid." she tried to calm him, holding up her free hand. "You're sa…"

"LET ME GO!" he screamed at her.

"Reid!" Morgan called, busting through the door. "Calm down!" he ordered.

The boy's head snapped about, but it was too fast. His eyes couldn't keep up, the rush of movement sending waves of nauseous through his body. Squeezing his eyes closed, shutting out the stimuli that nearly overwhelmed him. But it did little to slow the turning of his insides.

"It's alright, J.J." Morgan encouraged softly. "Let him go."

She hesitated, the last thing in the world she wanted was to let her young friend go. But, obviously, holding him wasn't helping either. So…

His arm free, Reid wrapped both around his middle, rolling himself forward until his head rested on the bed.

J.J. reached out, wanting to comfort him. But she stopped, her hand a breath over his back. She glanced at Morgan who shook his head. Curling her fingers, she reluctantly pulled her hand back. "Spence?" she breathed, sitting on the edge of the bed, careful not to touch him. "Are you alright, Spence?"

His answer came in the form of a groan.

Morgan sighed. Walking around the bed to the counter, he poured a paper cup of water and returned to the bed. "Reid, take some water."

His head shook slightly, not lifting from the bed.

"Reid, take some water." Morgan repeated, his tone taking on a sterner note. He'd seen Gideon do the same thing, and getting a positive response. He hoped Reid would respond the same to his tone, that it wasn't just a father/son thing.

For a moment, Reid didn't react. But, then his arms unwrapped themselves. He sat his hands flat on the bed and slowly, carefully, pushed himself up onto his knees. Licking his lips, he finally dared to open his eyes and look at Morgan.

Morgan held the cup out to him. "drink." he ordered.

Reid blinked at him, then blinked at the cup. Every move slow and careful, he reached out, took the cup, and brought it up to his lips. Taking a sip, he closed his eyes again, feeling the cool water trickle down his throat. So cool and soothing.

"Better?" Morgan asked after a moment of quiet.

Reid's eyes opened again and he looked at the man. Taking a deep breath, he nodded once. Then he turned to look at the woman who sat only a foot away.

One more familiar face with no supportive memory.

He dropped his eyes, embarrassed that he couldn't remember such a pretty face.

And that just mad him angry all over again.

"FBI Special Agent Jennifer Jareau." she suddenly offered as if she knew what was going through his head.

His eyes darted up again.

She smiled, a gentle, caring expression, her eyes kind and soft. "But my friends call me J.J." she added.

He glanced at Morgan, before asking "Am I… we friends?"

Her smile flinched, but, with practice ease, she kept it in place. "Yes, very much so." she answered. "Very good friends. We work together with the BAU. That's the FBI's…"

"Yea, Behavior Analyze Unit." Reid growled. Grinding his teeth, he dropped his eyes again. "I'm sorry." he mumbled.

She shrugged. "I shouldn't have touched you after waking up from a dream like that."

"I mean I'm sorry I don't remember you." he corrected her assumption.

Morgan shook his head. "No worries, man. It'll come back to you." he assured. "Have a little patients."

"Patients!" Reid glared at him. "Patients? My life is gone! Everyone I know, my family, friends, coworkers… ME! I'm gone! Disappeared! Vanished! Ripped out of my head leaving behind a gaping hole! And I don't know how! Or why! Or even when! Patients?"

"Frankly, I'd be mad as hell." J.J. admitted. "I am mad as hell, and I'm not the one who lost his memory."

Reid looked at her, a little startled at her declaration.

J.J. met his eyes, managing to capture him even when it was so obvious that he wanted to look away. "The how is you were drugged." she gave him the information he so desperately wanted, needed. "What you are feeling, the nauseas, the shivers, head and body aches… they're all withdraw symptoms."

"I know." Reid mumbled, dropping his eyes. "Lost my memory. Not my mind."

Morgan laughed.

Both J.J. and Reid looked up at him.

The agent shrugged. "Lost his memory, but he's still a little smart ass." he teased.

Half smiling, half gasping in disgust, J.J. slapped a hand at her friend's arm, but Morgan skipped aside. "Shut up." Turning back to Reid, she let him know "You might be a smart ass, but he's a pain in the ass."

Reid actually smiled. A weak, shy smile, but, without a doubt, a smile.

Thrilled with the response, J.J. practically leaped to her feet. "You know," she spoke quickly, snapping her fingers in the air. "You need food." She looked up at Morgan. "Dr. Wesslim said that he should try to eat when he wakes up. With help run the drug through his system. Maybe speed up recovery."

Instantly, Reid's smile was gone, his stomach twisting with just the thought of stimulating it. "I…. I really don't want…."

"Food." Morgan agreed, clapping his hands together. "You want to make the run, or should I?"

"I'm not hungry." Reid tried again, really, really not wanting food. Not even wanting to see it, much less eat…

"I'll go." J.J. volunteered, heading for the door. "You'd just get him some Ho-hos or something insane like that." Before going out the door, she glanced back at Reid, offering an encouraging smile. Then she slipped out the door and was gone.

Understanding he had lost the argument, Reid dropped his head to his chest and sighed.

Chuckling, Morgan fell back across the head of the bed just behind the young agent. "There is one very important reason for you to get your memory back." he told him as he cupped his hands behind his head and gazed up at the ceiling.

"Besides the fact that I have only your word that I really am one Spencer Reid?" Reid mumbled, not bothering to look up.

"You still haven't told me how your date with her went." Morgan pointed out.

Reid's head came up, looking at the door. "Date?" He turned to look back at him. "Her?"

Morgan grinned. "See? Excellent reason to remember."

There was a loud buzz, and Reid jumped, his head coming up.

Morgan carefully did not show any reaction beyond assuring "Just the hospital PA system."

Reid looked back at him.

Morgan pointed at his ear. "Listen. First buzz was to get everyone's attention, the next…"

"… will be the announcement." the boy concluded, nodding his understanding.

True to prediction, there was another buzz, followed by a woman's voice calling over the PA "Agent Morgan, please repost to the Admittance desk. Agent Morgan, Admittance desk, please." A third buzz signaled the end of the announcement.

Morgan frowned. "Wonder what that's about." he mumbled, pushing himself up and to his feet.

"Are you leaving?" Reid cried, suddenly terrified that he would be left alone all over again. He slid off the bed and tried to stand, with every intent of not being left behind.

But his knees wobbled, the entire length of his legs tingling as if trying to wake up. The tingling raced right up his thighs, striking the pit of his stomach from both sides, sickening him once more. His vision bleared with tears, his throat tightened. He started to float as he began to sink toward the floor.

"Woe." Morgan quickly grabbed him, easing him back onto the bed. "You are to stay here." he ordered.

"But…. You're going…?" Reid gasped, wrapping his arms around himself. Daring the possible nauseas, he looked up at Morgan with pleading eyes. "You're leaving… me?" He almost sounded terrified.

Morgan felt his chest tighten.

Damn, what he would do just for the pleasure of wrapping his hands around the throat of the bastards who messed up their kid.

"Reid." he answered, his tone steady, strong, and, he hoped, reassuring. "You are alright. You don't need to be afraid. I will only be down the hall. I will not be gone long. And J.J. will be back in just a moment."

"What if…" Reid started, but stopped, clamping his mouth shut. He didn't want to voice his fear, give words to the possibility that, maybe, perhaps, if Morgan left, if he was alone again, if he was gone just long enough…

Would he remember him when…

If…

… he returned?

Morgan smiled slightly, resting a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Trust me, buddy. I'll be right back." Not giving him a chance to protest further, knowing that quick was better than dragging it out, he turned and headed out the door, closing it securely behind him.

Reid's breath quickened the instant the man had left his sight.

Would he returned?

As tired as he was, he didn't dare lay back again to sleep.

What if, when he woke again, he was lost again?

If the world was dark and cold again?

If he didn't remember who he was again?

He ground his teeth, fear once again turning to anger. Again? How could he forget what he didn't remember anyway? Everything about himself he knew now was just things told to him by men who…

Hell, all he knew about the men were what they, themselves, told him!

In all honesty, how did he even know they were telling him the truth?

Setting his jaw in determination, Reid gathered his strength and courage, and, once more, pushed himself off the bed.

And, once again, his knees wobbled, the entire length of his legs tingling as if trying to wake up. The tingling raced right up his thighs, striking the pit of his stomach from both sides, sickening him once more. His vision bleared with tears, his throat tightened. He started to float as he began to sink toward the floor.

But he grabbed the foot post, forcing himself to stay on his feet. Squeezing his eyes closed, grinding his teeth, he willed his stomach to settle down. It seemed to take forever, but his body finally calmed itself. Taking a deep breath, he took a step away from the bed and toward the door. Then another step. Then another, his dizziness fading.

As if sensing his struggle, the door swung open.

Reid looked up to see a young woman standing in the door.

Her green eyes widen slightly at the sigh of him. "Reid, what do you think you are doing?" she demanded, hurrying forward to grab his arm and offer support. "No matter." she resigned. "You're on your feet and that saves time."

So grateful not to be left to his own strengths, Reid didn't pull away. Catching his breath, he wanted to know "Who… who are you?"

"What?" She sounded startled and hurt that he didn't know her. But then she sighed. "I'm Elle." she told him. "Elle Greenaway. I work with you at the BAU."

When he just frowned up at her, she shook her head slightly. "Don't worry. You'll remember soon enough. But, right now, we need to hurry and go."

"Go?" Reid repeated. He didn't understand, but he didn't resist as she lead him out the door. "Why? What about Morgan?"

"Morgan will meet us out at the car." the woman hisses as she quickly turned him down the hall. Her left arm wrapped around his shoulders, her right hand gripping his arm, her finger tips tapping on the inside of his arm, her nails clicking…

Reid stopped, tilting his head.

Clicking.

Soft clicks, hisses, whistles…

Whispers?

Continues sound just low enough,

distant enough,

that he couldn't…

Quite…

put it…

together…

Suddenly he jerked away from her, turning and stumbling back until he hit the wall. Eyes huge, he stared up at her. "I know you!" It was more of an accusation than an exclamation.

She turned to face him, spreading her arms wide, showing she meant no harm. "Of course you do. I told you… We work together. I am Special Agent Elle Greenaway." she assured. She reached for his arm. "I'll tell you every little detail of our lives just as soon as we get you out of here. The people who did this to you are on their way here. We have to go… now!"

Reid pulled his arms away from her. "No!" he shouted at her. "Don't touch me!"

"Reid?" J.J. called as she came down the hall toward them, carrying a tray of food. "What's…" She stopped a few feet away when Elle turned to face her. "Hello. Who are you?" she wanted to know.

The woman licked her lips. "Well, crap." she hissed. Without warning, she was suddenly spinning around, kicking her right foot up and out, slamming the tray up and out of J.J.'s hands and flying into the air.

J.J. leaped back, just barely avoiding the sharp heal of the woman's boot. No sooner had her feet settled on the floor again, than she had to twist to avoid yet another kick. FBI training kicking in, she grabbed for her side arm, yelling "FBI! Back off!"

But before she could take aim, her attacker's foot struck her wrist, numbing her fingers, and sending the weapon dropping to the floor, unused.

The woman quickly stepped forward, smashing her fist into the FBI agent's gut, doubling her over with a gasp. Then, bring up her other fist, she struck J.J. just below her the eye, sending her flying back to slam on the floor, hard and without sympathy.

Stunned, hurt, and dazed, J.J. was laid out on the floor, helpless.

The attacker stood over the blond for a moment, ready to continue the beating if the girl tried to rise again. But, when J.J. remained on the floor, the fight seemingly gone from her, the woman huffed. "Stick to wrestling the media, girlfriend." she advised. Satisfied that the agent was out of the way, the woman turned back to Reid.

But he was no longer there.

In fact, he was no where to be seen.

"Well, crap all over again." she growled.

"Hey!"

The woman spun about, startled…

… and ran right into J.J.'s small, sharp fist.

Her lips busting open, she stumbled back, confused at how this came about.

J.J. leaped after her, grabbing her arm and shoulder and, spinning about, slammed her head first into the wall. She stepped behind her attacker, pulling her arm up her back, her free hand pressing into the middle of her back, pinning her. "You are under arrest, girlfriend." she hissed in her ear.

"J.J.!" Morgan called as he hurried to her aid, a security officer, alerted by the hospital staff, close behind. "You alright? What the hell happened?" he demanded, stepping in to help her hold the woman while the security officer produced handcuffs.

"That's what I'd like to know." J.J. admitted, glaring at the woman as the cuffs were locked around her wrists and she was turned to face them. "Who are you?" she demanded.

With a flip of her head, the woman threw her wavy auburn hair back over her shoulder. She blinked green eyes at her, a slight smile gracing her lips. A thin trickle of bright, red blood trickled down from the split in her lip.

With disgust, J.J. backed away. "Fine. You're still under arrest. Somebody read her her rights." she growled, turning away. Gingerly touching the quickly forming bruise over her cheek bone, she explained what little she could: "She was trying to take Reid."

"Reid?" Morgan glanced about. Frowning, he stepped aside and poked his head into the room. Returning, he asked "J.J.?"

"Yea?" J.J. winced as a nurse, arriving to offer a light examination of the agent's injuries, probe the bruise.

"Where's Reid?" Morgan wanted to know, still wandering up and down the hall, looking for the boy.

"What do you mean where's…'" J.J.'s eyes widen. Pushing the nurse aside, she quickly turned a full circle, scanning the area.

Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid was gone.


	3. Three

Gideon stood on the edge of the road, looking down into the thistle tangled incline. He could see where something, about Reid size, had crashed into the underbrush, rolling down the incline to land with quite a rucas at the bottom where the snow had been packed down from a hard hit. His eyes followed the chaotic path as Reid had found his feet and wandered about, looking…

Looking for what?

Or was it just aimless wandering?

Did he have a purpose when the path abandon the twisting and turning back on itself, taking on the more than less direction of the shack in which he had been eventually found in?

Could he see the shack from there in the dark, cold night in a drug induced stupor?

Even if he had seen it, could he have possibly made sense of it? Drugged, lost, cold, and alone, could he possibly have made the connection between shack and shelter and safety?

Or did he just happen to wander in that particular direction?

"Kid's right mess up, is he?" the deputy sent out to show him around asked.

Not bothering to look at the man, Gideon started down the incline.

"Umm… watch your step there, sir…. Agent…. Sir?" the deputy advised, quickly pushing away from his car and following. "Don't want two of you FBI sorts whacking the senses outta you on the same fall." He tried to chuckle, but, not getting a like reaction from the agent, he decided to let his joke go. Instead, as loose gravel slipped out from under foot, sliding him down the hill for a few inches, he asked "What are you looking for anyways, sir? Maybe I can help? 'Course the CSI boys have been all over this little piece of earth. Hell, thought they'd have us start pulling the trees up by the roots and strain through the dirt!" Again he tried to encourage a lighter mood, only to, again, fail miserably. "I mean, what's it you hoping to find out here anyways?"

With a sigh, Gideon finally stopped to look back at the man. "There is more to the scene than can be picked up with the casual eye. CSI determines the hows. BAU determines the whys." he explained in a calm, cool voice as if he was explaining the why the sky was blue to a small child.

And, like a small child, the deputy answered his response with yet another question: "Well, is it like the whys all that important? I mean, 'sides keeping you all employed?" Again he chuckled.

"Only if you want to catch those responsible." Gideon answered, turning back to his search and leaving it at that. He didn't have the time nor the inclination to play teacher just right then. There were, after all, other concerns.

"humph." The deputy found that as funny as his own comments. "That sounds pretty full of yourself. Don't you think?"

Gideon turned in the direction of the shack and leaned this way and that, trying to see the old building through the trees and bushes. He stood on his tippy toes and bent down to Reid's height. But, no matter how he tried, he couldn't see the shack. Shaking his head, he concluded "He didn't see it from here." Frowning, he glanced at the deputy. "Who else knows about that shack?"

The officer shrugged. "Just about anyone with kids or's been a kid here abouts." He scratched his chin. "Come to think about, taken a high school sweet heart or two there myself in my day and time." He smiled. "You wouldn't know it, but I was quite the lady's man back then."

"Must have been your fine choices of date destinations." Gideon grumbled. Sighing, he began to talk it out to himself. "Well, Reid didn't grow up around here, it's doubtful at best that he knew that the shack was there. Can it be seen down the road? As the car passed, before he reached this point."

"It'd be a hard thing to see in the dark, but, yea, the roof is visible from the road if you're riding the margin line right close." the deputy answered.

"The car was swerving. If they were struggling…" He paused to glance back up at the road. "He could of seen the shack from the road, assumed it meant help and/or safety, and made his move."

The deputy looked doubtful. "In the dark, out in the middle of near enough no where, drugged right out of his wits…" He tilted his head, shaking it slightly. "I don't see it. I mean, if'n he was gonna run at first sight of help, why didn't he jump out at the K-Mart some fifteen miles back? Or.. " He waved a hand forward, in the way the car had been, assumedly traveling. "Why not wait 'til he got to Shanty just another five miles up. Shucks, Shanty even has itself a couple of security guys." He frowned. "'Course, if'n he didn't grow up around here, 'suppose he might not have known about Shanty."

"He knew." Gideon mumbled, his eyes following the direction of his hand. "If it was ever on a map, Reid knew about it."

"Hey, that's right!" The deputy snapped his fingers. "He's like some sort of freaky brain, isn't he? Like the Buckaroo Banzai of the FBI!"

The agent looked at him. "Buckaroo Banzai?"

"Yea…. You know? Adventures of Buckaroo Banzai Across the Eighth Demission? Perfect Tommy and Rawhide and New Jersey and Penny Priddy? Big cult classic from the early eighties? They write a lot of fanfic for it off the internet." He shrugged. "You know!"

Gideon's eye brows raised in something of a mental wince, then turned away from the man and his chatter. "He was tied. The marks on his wrists note that."

"No ropes or anything on him." the deputy pointed out. Glancing about, he noted "And none was found around here." He held up a finger. Maybe they're still in the car!. You know? The one he jumped from?"

The agent took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ropes leaving those marks would have been pretty tight. There were no scrape marks indicating he slipped the ropes." he mumbled to himself, finally coming to the conclusion "Someone released his hands."

"Well, he was pretty doped up. Not like the kid would have given much of a fight."

Gideon nodded slightly. "So…. Did he escape? Or did someone let him go?" He glanced around at the forest again. "Why here?" He turned back to the officer. "Who owns this property?"

The Deputy shrugged. "You don't know?"

Gideon raised one eyebrow.

"Senator Domas." the man explained. He waved a hand about. "He owns everything on this side of the road from Road 122 and right on up to the Shanty. Fact be, his place is just up at the end of Rd 122."

"Richard Domas." Gideon breathed.

"You know the Senator?" The deputy shook his head. "Well, guess he ain't a senator no more. He's some sort of teacher or professor or something. But you know him?"

"Something like that." Gideon mumbled.

Not one of Gideon's favorite people.

Consistently Domas had made it clear that he thought Gideon was weak and cowardly. After all, he did have a mental breakdown. Domas didn't believe in the BAU's usefulness, and was the fore runner in the pressure on Hotch to have Gideon removed. He didn't think that, without Gideon's reputation, the BAU had the strength to stand scrutiny.

But, what they had butted heads on the most was the assignment of one Dr. Spencer Reid.

If there had been anyone Domas had worked harder at getting rid of than Gideon, it would have been Reid. The kid, Domas had argued, had no business in the Bureau. If they needed an encyclopedia, they'd open an encyclopedia. In the very least, Reid didn't belong in the field.

If it wasn't for Gideon blocking his every attack, Domas would have had Reid locked away in some basement library, or worse, on day one of the kid's young career.

Funny that Domas' name would come up now.

"Sir?"

Gideon glanced at the deputy again, a little startled with finding him still there. But, the annoying man's interruption did remind the Agent of why he was here. And why he would now leave.

"Sir?" the deputy asked as Gideon walked pass and back up towards the car. "Where are you going?"

"To have a word with senator Domas." He paused half way up the incline to look back at the officer. "You coming?"

Hotch slowly pulled the car to a stop in front of the huge, mansion of a house.  
The circler driveway was already occupied by three sheriffs cars and a coroner's van. Uniformed officers were scattered around the property, picking their way through the garden to the west, beating the bushes on the east. And more than a couple paused to watch the newcomers arrive.

"What the hell is going on here?" Elle wondered, already climbing out of the car.

"That's becoming the popular question of the day." Hotch mumbled. He wasn't sure just how frustrated he could get without exploding, but he was pretty sure he was quickly closing in on that mark.

"Agent Hotchner." Sheriff Jackson greeted as he stepped out onto the wide porch. Hands on hips he watched as the two agents approached. "Fancy meeting you here." he growled, his own frustration making itself known.

"Sheriff Jackson." Hotch responded. He held his hands out. "What brings you out here?" He might as well be the first one to ask.

Jackson glanced at Elle, but otherwise ignored her. "Now, Agent, considering this is my crime scene, I thought maybe I should be the one to do the askin' here." His eyes narrowed. "What does bring you to the Domas homestead?"

"What do you mean crime scene?" Elle wanted to know. "What happened here?"

The man ignored her, keeping his focus on the lead agent. "Fact be, I'm not sure whether to be pleased or disturbed at seeing you hare abouts." he admitted.

"How so?" Hotch asked as he stepped pass the sheriff to peer through the open doors and into the entrance of the house.

The once beautiful, marble tiled floor was hidden beneath small, blood stained foot prints running around and through a large pool of blood. Small, bloody handprints marked the hall table, the stained glass windows of the door, the door knob, a tipped over vase. Three shell cases were dropped on the floor. Two officers were discussing how to pull a bullet from the wall without damaging the important piece of evidence.

Jackson turned to stand beside Hotch. "How so? Pleased 'cause, chances are, if I don't have to find you, I probably don't have to look very hard for your kid. Disturbed 'cause I'm gonna be askin' you to hand that kid on over to me."

Hotch turned to look at the man, but it was Elle who asked the question.

"Is Reid a suspect?"

The Sheriff finally gave her his attention. "You all are the brainiac club of the FBI. You tell me." He waved a hand at the house. "I have two MIAs. Former Senator Domas and his wife. Enough blood to make us think that our MIAs did not go willingly. You see the size of those hand prints? Those feet? 'Bout the same size of your kid. In the house of a man who, according to his secretary, made it his goal in life to pull your team apart." His hand turned direction waving at the woods. "Agent Reid was found only a few miles from this spot, covered in blood, apparently under the influence, apparently uncooperative…"

"Uncooperative?" Hotch repeated, resisting the urge to get angry with what he was hearing.

Elle resisted less. "Apparently?" she snapped. "He was drugged. He was abused. He wasn't being uncooperative. He was unable to cooperate! They took away his memory!"

"They who?" the sheriff snapped right back. "The only evidence that there ever was a they' is an anonymous report that someone saw something being thrown from a car in the middle of the night. Not even your kid can verify that there was, at any time, a they'." he pointed out.

"He didn't do this!" Elle insisted. She looked at Hotch for back up.

Hotch didn't immediately look at her. He was focusing on the small foot print only a few feet away, inside the entrance. He remembered the blood on Reid's feet when they had found him. He had been in shock. He had been drugged. He didn't remember anything. He couldn't tell them, without a doubt, that he had not been in this house. That those were not his foot prints. That those shell casings did not come from a gun he had fired. That he did not have something to do with the disappearance of Domas and his wife.

But Elle repeated, if not for the sheriff, for Hotch. "Reid did not do this."

Hotch finally looked at her.

She shook her head. "Doped up, whatever. It isn't in his nature to hurt people. And you can not make someone do something that he is not willing to do in the proper state of mind." She was trying to back her full hearted belief with some reason. Anything that would convince Hotch, a man of facts and evidence, that her gut feeling, her faith in Reid was right.

The lead Agent sighed. He looked at the Sheriff again. "Reid's fingerprints are on file. Have they been matched?" he wanted to know.

Jackson shrugged. "They're on their way for comparison." He too sighed. "Look, Agents, I don't want to nail another cop, FBI or not. But, even if he didn't do whatever happened here, he was in the immediate area. Maybe an accomplice. Maybe a victim. In the very least, he's a possible witness. I need to question him."

Elle started to shake her head, but Hotch nodded, earning him a steaming glare from the woman.

Hotch looked at the Sheriff. "Under my supervision. And after he is released from doctor's care." He titled his head toward his partner. "And Agent Greenaway works the crime scene with your people."

Jackson bobbed his head to one side. "Fine. You're Agent is more than welcome. I'll take any help in figurin' just what the hell is goin' on here abouts. But I want deputies on the boy." He glanced at Elle, assuring her "For his sake as much as mine. Accomplice or victim, whoever they' might be, won't want him talkin' to me."

Again Hotch nodded. "Elle, take a look around. Find out what you can." he ordered, turning away and starting back for the car. Pulling his cell phone from his pocket, he pushed the required buttons to ring Morgan.

The phone was answered almost before the first ring had ended.

"Morgan," Hotch started, but then stopped to listen. After a moment, in a tone far too calm, he asked "What!"

He snapped his cell close, wrapping his fingers around it so tightly his knuckles turned white.  
Morgan was mad.

Mad at the bad guys.

Mad at the so-called hospital security.

And, most of all, mad at his own stupidity.

How could he had been so stupid as to leave Reid alone? Reid had been counting on him! Gideon had been counting on him! And he let them down!

And why?

To answer a phone call, which, as he should have known, was made just to lure him away from the kid. If anyone wanted to phone him, why didn't they just call his cell? And, hell, if no one on earth knew his cell, he still could have waited until J.J. had returned.

But, oh, no, he was stupid enough to leave Reid alone!

All by himself, with no memory of who he was, who anyone was…

Frightened….

Sick…

Helpless….

utterly alone….

"Why do you think he ran?" J.J. wondered.

Morgan glanced at her sharply. "What?"

She shrugged, stopping the security tape she had been watching, to turn her attention away for a moment. "Why'd he take off?" she wanted to know. "Even if I couldn't handle her, Reid wouldn't have left me to fight for myself. Even if he still doesn't remember us personally…"

"It isn't in his nature." Morgan had to agree with that.

Reid might not always know how to help, often trips over himself trying to help, but, never even thinking of harm to self, he would always try. It was part of his nature. It was instinct. Not memory.

Morgan turned to look at their prisoner who was sitting on an examination table, waiting for a doctor to clear her for transportation. "Why did he run?" he asked her.

The woman looked back, tilting her head to one side, the corners of her lips turning up in a slight smile. She seemed amused just to watch the agents try to work out what was going on and still not have the faintest idea.

Like watching chimps trying to figure out how to reach the banana hanging off a string just out of reach.

Morgan leaned his knuckles on the end of the table, leaning forward on them, his dark eyes narrowing. His voice dropped as he asked again "Why' did he run?"

She shrugged slightly. "Perhaps you frightened the child." she suggested in a soft, almost seductive whisper.

Morgan stiffened. Straightening, he crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the fact that this woman, whoever she was, had set him back. He didn't know what it was, but she sent a shiver up his spine.

"Derek!" J.J. reached out and grabbed his arm. "There he is."

Morgan quickly turned back to the security screen.

There he was.

Reid, in hospital pajamas and soft, walk-about slippers, slipping out the front door. He paused just outside the glass doors, stepping aside while a couple entered. He glanced about, then started off, flinching away as he passed a woman who walked by. Then he was out of camera sight.

Morgan glanced about, as if, what the camera couldn't pick up, he could see for himself. "Where the hell is he going?"

With a startled hiss, Reid stumbled to the side until his shoulder hit the stone wall.  
"'scuse me." mumbled the woman as she hurried pass and down the street, too busy with her own life to be concerned with the reaction that a stranger on the street had to the simple brushing of shoulders.

Reid held his breath, kept his eyes down, his arms wrapped securely around himself, until the click of high heals on cement had faded away. He dared to raise his eyes, glancing about, searching for any possible threat.

To his horror, threats were every where.

The man reading the newspaper while waiting for the bus at the corner.

The woman standing on the steps of the civil center, waving her hands about in a heated discussion with a man in a gray suit.

The blue sedan with tinted windows parked under the "Two Hour" sign.

The hotdog vender in front of the street corner, drowning a foot long with chili and cheese.

The cop encouraging the vendor to add more chili as his female partner stood to the side, shaking her head.

Reid's head tilted to one side as he watched the hotdog vendor. He could almost remember, almost hear the whispers coming through the fog….

"Come on, Reid. You haven't lived 'til you've had a Heart Attack Dog!" Morgan had laughed at him.

"Seems that description contradicts the supporting statement." he had answered, staring at the foot long staining the paper holder with thick, orange grease that seeped through to run down his fingers. It was a balancing act just to keep it in the holder. How he was gonna actually eat it without it ending up on his shirt…

"Hey, kid. You okay?" Someone touched his shoulder.

Reid snapped around, slamming into the wall again. He couldn't help but wince as he added bruises to his already impressive array. Still, he managed to warn "Don't touch me!"

The man held up his hands. "Easy there, kid. Just wanted to see if you needed some help." He glanced back at a young woman who stood a safe distance away.

Details flooded into Reid's brain so alarmingly fast, he winced again.

Matching gold rings: married.

His polished loafers, creased slacks: professional.

Calluses on her fingers, pretty, kept up shoes, but not new: she sent him through school.

Tint to his blue eyes: contacts.

Short black hair on shoulder of her sweater: black dog, small.

His loosened tie…

Her hay colored hair, just the bangs tied back with a pink ribbon…

Ink stains on the very tip of his left index finger…

Whisp of raspberry hand cream…

"Is he alright?" she asked her husband, reaching out towards he boy..

Reid's eyes snapped to the hand, backing even further away, if that was at all possible backed against the stone wall.

The man quickly grabbed her hand, but kept his attention on the boy. "Can we do something for you? Do you need to go to the hospital?" he asked, trying to be helpful.

"Hospital?" Reid's eyes snapped back to him. He shook his head. "No." he gasped, sliding back down the wall from the couple. "No hospital." Spinning away, he continued down the wall away from the couple as quickly as his cold feet would carry him.

He could hear the couple talk urgently to each other behind him, but did his very best to tune them out.

No, no hospital. He couldn't go back there. There was nobody there he could be sure of.

There was no one anywhere that he could be sure of.

He couldn't even be sure of himself!

The only thing he knew for sure, without a doubt, was his toes hurt. Happened when someone went walking out in the snow in hospital slippers.

He stopped.

It was in front of a gray, box like building with a snow covered garden area, an oak tree with winter bare branches. Parking lot with key card entrance. Big glass doors with black steel frame. Little black globe security cameras attached to the walls and overhangs.

He knew this place.

Penelopy Garcia was happily tapping away at her keyboard when her phone hummed the American Hero ditty. The little finger of her right hand made a leap to the phone pad, before returning, as if nothing had happened. "Whisper sweet nothings to your Goddess." she commanded into her headset.  
A moment and her fingers paused. She couldn't help but smile. "You lost Reid?" She chuckled. "I know he's small, but he isn't that' small." Then she frowned, her eyes flared. "That bitch! J.J. should o' put a bullet up her…" She stopped, tilting her head to one side. "Well, we can check the street cameras." Her fingers started work on the keyboard again. "Oh, have faith, my lover. Would I fail you?"

There was a soft cough behind her.

Quick as all get out, Garcia spun about, ready to release her wraith on any and every soul who would dare to intrude on her sanctum without her leave. But she stopped.

A small figure was walking by the window of her office.

"Umm…. Hold that thought, Derek." She rose to her feet, stepped to her door, and leaned out. "Hey, Little Bo Peep? Found your lost sheep." She sang, before tossing the headset back onto her computer desk and hurrying out the door.

She felt an instant pang of panic when, with a quick glance around, he was no where to be seen. She snatched the arm of a passer byer, dragging him around to face her. She demanded "Reid! Where!"

The man struggled to keep a hold of his stack of files as his arm was nearly ripped out of the socket. "Huh?" he wondered. "Oh…. umm… I think I saw him heading for the Bull Pen. Hey, he okay? He looked kinda…." Suddenly and unexpectedly released, he stumbled back, bumped into the wall and lost his grip on his files.

Garcia never noticed the paper disaster she left behind as she hurried down the hall to the Bull Pen, the life center of the B.A.U. offices.

Sure enough, there he was, absently wandering around the desks, his arms wrapped around himself, trying to ward of the shivering. Every now and again he'd reach out to touch this or that…

… a phone, lamp, desk corner…

… as if making sure that they were really there. But, then, pull back just short, as if afraid to find out it wasn't, in fact, real. His wet, muddy slippers made a squishy sound as he shuffled along.

Garcia could of collapsed with relief at seeing Reid there. But she chose a different route: getting angry. "Spencer Reid!" she cried, hands on hips, doing her very best to look motherly… without going as far as pushing her glasses back up her nose. "What are you doin' here! Daddy Derek is going out of his mind…" She instantly regretted it.

The young agent spun about, his big, startled eyes staring up at her. As quickly as he looked up, his eyes dropped, his arms wrapped around his middle white knuckles' tight, and he began to back away in a moment of panic.

Garcia quickly shook her head, her tone softening. "Hey, Reid, I'm sorry. I was just teasing. I didn't mean it." Then she frowned. "Why are you sacred of me? You're the one with the gun!" She paused. "Well, not that you were ever good with it." Pause again. "Yea, but you did shoot that guy, once." Pause to shake her head. "But you don't remember that, do you?" Her hand came up to her mouth to cover a gasp. "Oh! Maybe I shouldn't have said that. What a lousy way to find out that you killed a guy, huh? Even if he was a freaky crazed lunatic and was gonna kill Hotch and you saved him and…"

"Means the same." Reid mumbled, looking at everything he could without raising his eyes.

Garcia stopped. She smiled slightly. "What?"

"Crazed. Lunatic. Means the same." he explained in a near whisper. "It was redundant."

Garcia smiled. "Well, that sounds more like your usual little wise ass self." she chuckled. Hopping down the steps toward him, she said "Really, though, what are you doing here? You should be at the hospital."

Again, Reid acted with an instant of panic. Stepping back until he bumped into a desk. "No. No hospital!" his voiced raised in pitch, shaking his head.

Instinctively, Garcia reached out for him, wanting to assure him.

But Reid slid along the desk and out of reach. "I'm not going back!" he yelled at her. "No more hospital! No more needles! No more drugs! I don't need it! I don't want it! I'm not going back!"

"Alright!" Garcia returned, frowning. "Don't have a cow. Geez. And I thought I was the only conspiracy theorist on pay roll."

Reid looked up at her and blinked. His tone suddenly and completely calm, he repeated from somewhere "Actually, did you know that it is a common practice to recruit dentists to implant tracking devices…" He trailed off, tilting his head to one side.

Garcia couldn't help but laugh. "Where did that come from?" she wanted to know.

The agent shrugged. "He told me to believe." he answered softly. With a tired sigh, he leaned back against the desk, reaching up to rub his eyes. "My head hurts." he mumbled.

"Yea." she agreed. "What's called a hangover, sweetie. You were doped up. You're coming down now. Crashing." She shook a finger. "You know, I have this coffee stuff that is real good for hangovers. I know a thing or two about hangovers, you know….. Well, maybe you don't know. But anyways…" She turned and started back up the steps. At the top she spun about and said "Wait here. Don't go anywhere. I'll be right back…. No…. the office! Gideon's office! There's a couch. You can lie down…. 'cause, well, looks like you're gonna fall down, so…. I'll be right back. Don't run away again, okay?" She spun about and took two steps, before spinning back about. "Oh, and, hey… I'm Penelopy Garcia! Remember me?"

Reid blinked up at her and shook his head, mumbling "Sorry."

Garcia's jaw dropped. "You don't remember me? Not even a little?" Despite what Morgan had told her, she was shocked. "Who the hell could forget me? I'm a young, pretty blond! I'm the Goddess of the Net! I'm…"

"Miss. Garcia?" Reid interrupted.

She snapped her jaw shut and refocused on the boy. "Huh?"

"I don't feel good." he admitted, his arms, once again, wrapping around his middle, bowing over.

Garcia frowned. Didn't they already concur on that? But then she understood. "Oh….. OH! Umm…. Trash can! Find a trash can! Or something…." As she looked about, she couldn't help but wonder under her breath "What part of computer tech includes running about for a barf bucket?"


	4. Four

Elle stood at the edge of the pool of blood. "This is wrong." she observed, mostly to herself.

Sheriff Jackson finished signing something one of his men handed to him, before asking "You find a murder scene wrong? Blood splatter, missing bodies, an amnesiac witness…. Wrong? Whatever could possibly be wrong?"

Elle crossed her arms over her chest. "That's just it. It isn't splatter." She shook her head as she crouched down at the edge of the blood. "Look at it. It's nearly a perfect circle, except for where the foot prints went through. If a body was here and bled out, then there should be some… indication of where the body was." She shrugged. "This looks like… poured. Like it was poured out on to the floor." She rose to her feet again, jabbing a finger down at the puddle. "This scene isn't real. This was…"

"Staged." Gideon finished as he stood in the doorway.

"Gideon." Elle exclaimed looking back over her shoulder at him. "What are you doing here?"

Despite being surprised at his appearance, she couldn't help but be relieved to see him. He always seemed to be able to make sense out of what confused everyone else. Then again, he tended to confuse everyone else often enough.

Gideon stepped inside, his sharp gray eyes scanning the entry way, taking in every detail of the crime scene. "I was hoping to speak with Mister Domas."

Jackson huffed. "So was I." He eyed the new comer. "Another agent, huh? Or just another big brother?"

Gideon glanced at the man. "Big brother?" he repeated, tilting his head to one side.

Elle smiled. "The sheriff here has this theory that we all look after Reid like he's our kid brother or something."

"Deny it!" Jackson challenged.

The older agent stuck his bottom lip out for a second of thought, before answering with a simple "No." Then he turned and began to examine the bloody hand prints on the wall.

"No?" Sheriff Jackson glanced at Elle, then back at Gideon. "No what? No agent? No big brother?"

Gideon shrugged. "No, I won't deny it. In fact, I won't deny anything." Careful not to touch them, Gideon held his hand over the small hand print.

The palm was small, almost child size, but the fingers were long, artistic.

"Have we confirmed that these are Reid's?" he asked without being told that that was the suspicion.

Elle stiffened. "Reid didn't do this!" she repeated for…. Damn it, she lost count! But it was a lot of times!

Gideon frowned at her. "Of course he didn't." he agreed without question. "But he was here."

"Thank you." Jackson clapped his hands lightly and off to the side, as if he was applauding an opera. "I was beginning to think all the brain power on your team was flushed out with the kid's memory." Then again… "Why do you think the scene was staged?"

The agent looked about again. He waved a hand at the blood pool. "Poured, not bled." Another wave. "Hand prints are pressed directly on the wall, forming complete prints. An unnatural state for the hand unless pressed flat. Some low, but others too high for him to be trying to steady himself." A wave at the floor. "Footprints don't roll, which, if he was walking when they were made, would have."

The sheriff listened to all of this, looking at each point as it was made. He had already figured out half of that. But, there was one thing that the agents were forgetting. "Fact is, Agent Reid was here. Two people are missing. And that is a hell of a lot of human blood." He offered Elle a sarcastic smile. "And I have yet to hear from Agent Hotchner as to when I will be allowed to interview your kid."

Gideon turned to look at Elle, his eye brows raised in an unvoiced question. Did Hotch actually agree to letting the sheriff question Reid? How un-lawyer like of him.

But Elle kept her eyes on the sheriff as she answered "When I know, I will be sure to let you know." That said, she changed the subject by asking Gideon "How did you get here?"

Gideon shrugged, knowing Elle would fill him in when it was more appropriate. "In the neighborhood. Thought I'd drop in on an old acquaintance."

"Which you and Senator Domas were?" Jackson inquired. "How so?"

Elle put her hands on her hips. "Now Gideon is a suspect?" she growled.

Jackson sighed. "Little girl, for supposedly bein' a help in this little crime scene, you sure are a pain in the ass."

Gideon chuckled at that, earning himself a glare from his agent. Tilting his head to one side, he admitted to the sheriff "Domas and I have been on opposite sides of several arguments for a very long time. And, yes, one of which was the appointment of Dr Reid to the B.A.U."

Jackson scratched his chin, wondering "And what'd the Senator have against Reid?"

The agent blinked, shaking his head, a tilt to his smile. "You would have to ask Mister' Domas."

The sheriff huffed. "Now, wouldn't that make everything a hell of a lot easier. Just ask the missing, assumed murdered, man just what bug flew up his ass. Oh, and by the way, where is he, who killed him, and why couldn't he leave all that information bundled up all nice and neat in a little letter taped to the door. Video would have been nice."

Gideon smiled. "Yes, it would have been nice." he agreed. "Elle, we need to get the team together on this. Let's head back to Quantico."

Sheriff Jackson snapped his fingers in the air. "What a great idea. I'll get the car." he offered, leaving no room for argument as he headed out the door.

"Wonderful." Elle grumbled, crossing her arms over her chest. "This aughta be fun." She looked at Gideon. "Something I should know about you and Domas?" she asked.

Gideon was once again holding his hand over a bloody hand print. "Why was he here?" he wondered.

Garcia stood at the top of the steps and glanced around the Bull Pen.  
For the exception of the occasional intern or tech passing through or down one of the halls, there was no one to be seen.

Not entirely unexpected. After all, nearly everyone was out and about looking for their not-so missing agent.

Well, not so not so any more.

"Well, crap. Now where did he go?" Garcia groaned. Juggling a hot cup-of-soup in one hand and her huge litter mug with curly straw in the other, she stepped down into the Bull Pen and started looking around for Reid. "Turn my back for two seconds…." she started, but stopped when she saw the file cabinets between Reid's and Morgan's desks open, files scattered on the floor.

The drawers of the desks were also open. They had been rummaged through.

Garcia glanced about quickly. "Reid?" she whispered, a little afraid of who or what would answer. If anyone would answer.

There was a paper shuffling sound from the other side of Reid's desk.

Frowning, Garcia leaned over the desk.

Reid sat on the floor, one knee pulled up to his chest, the other leg stretched out to the side. All around him were scattered files, notes, pictures, profiles, reports… He chewed on the tip of his left thumb while his right hand absently scratched at the cuts on his arm. So engrossed in the files, he didn't even seem to notice his fingernails digging into the cuts, starting them to bleed.

Garcia stared at the mess. "Hotch is gonna have a freakin' stroke." she breathed. Though it wasn't just the chaos of the filed. Setting the soup and mug down on the desk, she dropped to her knees. "You're bleeding." she pointed out.

The young agent didn't seem to take notice of her, his eyes shifting about from one paper to the next to another.

Garcia sighed. Reaching out, she touched Reid's right hand, brushing it away from the bloody marks on his arm.

Instantly, Reid's head snapped away and down, his hands coming up to cup his ears as if her concerned touch had been a cruel blow. He scrambled back, bumping into the corner where the filing cabinet met his desk.

"Hey!" Garcia cried, startled at his reaction. "Take it easy! Calm down!"

His eyes shifted, glancing at her, then quickly away. "Leave me alone!" he hissed.

"Leave you…?" she huffed. "Yea, that'd be smart. Every time some one turns their back you're off and into trouble. Look at this mess!" she leaned forward, though making sure she didn't touch him. "Hotch is gonna have a stroke." she repeated. She paused, glancing around. "Did you read all of these?" she wanted to know.

Despite hands still cupped over his ears, Reid answered, shaking his head. "Don't need to. Already know what's in them. In them all. I know every word, every dotted I', every crossed t'. Every bloody finger print, every child rape, and serial monster, and fucking terrorist!" His voice rose until he was yelling. "I remember everything written in them!" But then his voice suddenly dropped to a whisper. "I…. I just don't remember them." His big eyes rose just enough to look at her. "Did… did I… we just write about…. .those things? Or did they really happen?"

Garcia glanced down at a file. She did remember it, and it had been a bad one. So bad, she couldn't help but shiver.

But, then again, how many of the files were good ones? After all, B.A.U. generally isn't called in to profile the local Girl Scout Leader.

Though she was pretty sure they had a bad one of those too.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, she admitted "I'd of thought you'd of wanted to forget most of this stuff. I mean… everything you guys see, everyday, out there… I mean sometimes I wish I could forget what I've seen!"

"You wish!" Reid hissed. In an angry fit, he grabbed a file and tossed it away from him. "I want to remember! Even this….this…." His hands balled up in fists and he pressed them against his eyes. "I do remember….. But I don't! I remember every word…." His hands dropped so he could look at her. "Did you know I shot someone? Shot him dead? I wrote it. I read it. Shot him in defense of…'" he left the quote hanging with a wave of a hand in the air. "But I don't remember! I don't remember pulling the trigger! I don't remember the sound! The gun slamming in my hand! I don't remember what it felt like to know that I had killed a man!" He looked down at his hands. "Did it feel natural? Did I get sick? Did it mean nothing to me that I took a life?" His hands balling up in fists again, he slammed them down on the floor in frustration. "I don't remember!"

"Of course it meant something!" Garcia snapped. "You're not an animal!" It was out of her mouth before she gave it any thought. Hell, anyone else called anyone on the team a cold blooded killer and she would of jumped on their back and given them a damn good reason to invest in hair plugs.

Reid looked up at her, blinking. "How do you know?" he wondered.

Garcia stumbled on what to say next. The obvious was easy. Just blurt it out. Backing it up without computer networking and virtual realities… now that was hard. "Well…. 'cause… I do. You're a sweet kid. Little geeky…. Okay, a lot geeky. But you're a good kid. Everyone likes you. Don't matter if you don't remember, 'cause I do! And you should always listen to the Goddess of the Information Highway! I! Know! Everything!" That said, she stood up, grabbed the cup-of-soup off the desk, and offered it down to him. "Eat!"

Someone cleared his throat.

Garcia's head snapped about.

Two hulking men in dark suits, government hair cuts, and suspicious budges under their jackets stood at the base of the steps.

Garcia's eyes narrowed. She didn't know these men. And she knew just about every one who came through here. Sure, she only took time to pry into the interesting files, the ones with the cute pictures, but she'd seen just about every pic of everyone who belonged in the building.

The advantage of running the computers info of the unit.

These two did not belong.

The one on the right offered a friendly smile, his perfect teeth almost dazzling. "Hello, ma'am. Who were you talking to, if you don't mind my asking?"

Garcia's eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Me." she said just a little too quickly. Resisting the urge to glance down at the young agent who still sat on the floor, out of sight, she did her very best to look nonchalant.

And failing miserably.

Ending up leaning against the desk, tapping a nervous finger on the top of her coffee mug, she tried again "I mean…. me, and I do mind you're asking. Who are you?"

The man on the left stepped away from his companion, glancing about the floor. "Looks like you've had a bit of a disaster." he observed, poking at a file on the floor with the toe of his shoe.

"Yea, well the housekeeper has the day off." the woman growled. "Who are you? How'd you get through the front door?"

The man on the right walked directly toward her, while the man on the left continued to roam the Bull Pen. "We are looking for Dr. Reid. Where is he?"

Garcia shrugged. "What makes you think I know?"

The right man continued to smile. He reached up, unbuttoning his suit jacket. "Miss Penelope Garcia, computer jocky of the B.A.U." His head tilted to one side. "You know everything.."

Garcia crossed her arms over her chest. "Flattery'll get you no where with me, hot stuff. My heart belongs to another man."

The speaker chuckled, nodding. "Yes, I have no doubt that a woman such as yourself can fend off any form of flattery that comes your way." He turned his head to look at his companion.

The left man did not look pleased. Slipping out of his jacket, he laid it over the back of a chair and proceeded to adjust his shoulder holsters.

Garcia straightened, her eyes widening. "Look." she started, still trying to sound tough. "I don't know who you are. I don't know how you got in here. And I don't know where Agent Reid is. Maybe you should come back when one of the agents are… Ow!"

The right man suddenly reached out, grabbing her arm in a painful grip. His hand squeezing, his thumb digging into the soft bend of her arm, he still offered that friendly smile. "Miss Garcia, I know you are not stupid. I know that you know what will happen if you don't cooperate."

"Let go!" Garcia cried, tears leaping to her eyes as she tried to twist free. "You're hurting me!"

He shook his head sympathetically. "You're not paid to take this. So, why don't you just give me what I want and you can return to your cubicle and your virtual reality with nothing more than a little bruise and a bad memory."

"Let her go!" Reid yelled, rising up from his hiding spot. "Leave her alone!"

The left man instantly spun about on Reid, his hand landing on the butt of his gun.

But the right man held up his hand, calming his partner.

"Reid…" Garcia gasped, her knees wobbling from the pain as iron fingers squeezed just a little harder.

"Let her go!" the young agent practically screamed at the man, his hand coming up, aiming a small pistol directly at his head.

The right man turned his friendly smile on the boy. His grip turned gentle as he moved Garcia to the side and out of the way. "Thank you for your company, Miss Garcia. But it would be best if your returned to your cubicle now."

Garcia, cradling her bruised arm against her chest, hesitated, glancing back at Reid.

She couldn't just leave him.

But wasn't like she was a real agent or anything. No one taught her anything about Kong Fu or whatever crap they taught agents!

She was a computer tech. A hacker!

If they were waging war in binary code, she'd be freakin' Zena the Warrior Princess!

But this real life stuff…

"It's alright, Garcia." Reid encouraged, cocking the pistol. "Don't worry about me." he told her, his tone sounding far too calm for her liking.

The man standing in front of him seemed unaware of the gun pointed directly at his chest.. "That's right, Miss Garcia. No need for you to worry that pretty, little head of yours. Dr. Reid and I are just going to have a little chat."

Even as she backed away, Garcia mustered the courage to shake her head. "Uh-uh. No way. I'm goin' no where, buddy, ol' pal. Think I'm gonna leave him alone with you? Not a chance in hell! Think I don't know men in black when I see them? Turn my back and you'll probably harvest his brain or some super secret shit like that!"

The Left man threw her a glare, a mixture of disbelief and threat. "This isn't some X-Files computer game, tootsie!" he growled a warning.

"Tootsie?" Garcia held up a hand. "Excuse me, did you just call me… tootsie?" She jabbed a finger at him, and ordered Reid "Shoot that one first!"

"Dr. Reid isn't going to shoot anyone." the right man assured softly as he took a step toward his target. "Dr. Reid is not a killer. It isn't in him to shoot anyone."

Reid's eyes narrowed. "You haven't been reading the same files I have."

"I would suggest you back the hell away from my agent!" Hotch warned as he came down the steps. His suit jacket was open, one hand on the butt of his gun, the other reaching out to take Garcia by the elbow and pull her behind him.

The right man's eyes shifted slightly, the only acknowledgement he gave that anyone else had entered the scene. He left that to his partner.

"You don't want a part of this, Agent Hotchner." the left man called out, trying to draw the agent's attention away from Reid and the right man.

"Standing in an F.B.I. Office, threatening an F.B.I. Agent, telling an F.B.I. Boy scout that it's none of his bee's wax?" Garcia barked out a laugh.

"Would you shut the hell up?" the left man snapped at her.

"Make me, bubble head!"

"Enough!" Hotch snapped at both of them. To the right man he said "You need to back away from him now." he ordered one more time.

The right man sighed, still smiling at Reid. "This could have been so much easier, so much quicker." Raising his hands up, he slowly turned to face Hotch. "Take it easy, agent Hotchner. I am reaching for my identification." very carefully he pulled from his breast pocket a badge, holding it out for inspection. "We are from the sheriff's department. We have orders to locate and take in to question Dr. Reid." he informed Hotch.

Hotch frowned. "Sheriff Jackson agreed to leave him our custody and question him under our roof."

The right man shrugged. "Well, he wasn't in your custody, was he?" he pointed out. "A sick, little boy skipped out of a hospital right under your agents' noses."

The left man huffed. "Didn't exactly hammer in the notion of competence on your part."

Hotch stiffened.

Garcia leaned into his shoulder from behind. "Don't believe it." she urged in a loud whisper. "He never said he was a cop 'til someone his own size came along. He's a bully. And he just doesn't…"

"Thank you, Garcia!" Hotch silenced her. "Reid is not going with them."

"We have orders…" the left man protested.

"But do you have a warrant?" the agent snapped.

"What are you? His lawyer?"

"Yes, I am." Hotch didn't hesitate to answer. "And as such, I am telling you right now, no warrant: no Reid." Then he offered a friendly smile. "If you like, you can wait for a warrant in the waiting room." he offered.

The right man chuckled, dropping his chin to his chest. "A.K.A. Interrogation room?"

Hotch's eyes narrowed. "I suppose that depends on how you look at it."

"Could throw in a few thumb screws to help along the mood." Garcia offered, but quickly ducked behind Hotch again when the left man growled


	5. Five

Elle glanced around the computer room, a little surprised that she didn't find what she was looking for. Frowning, she set the lap top down on a stake of official looking folders topped with a magazine, then snatched a piece of paper. She glanced at the array of fur and feather and boingy topped writing utensils poking up out of a Spiro mug. Tentatively she bobbed them around with the tip of her finger until she found on that almost resembled a pen and snatched it up before it could mutate into something else.

"Not that one." Garcia warned as she stepped into her office.

Elle spun about, startled at the sudden intrusion. "Garcia… I was just looking…. Why not this one?" She held the pen up for closer inspection.

"007." the computer whiz answered. When the agent frowned at her, Garcia sighed a loud, exaggerated sound. Snatching the pen from her friend, she clicked the end twice. "Hadn't you seen that James Bond movie with Peirce Bronson where he had this pen and when you clicked it three times… " she paused to dramatically click it for a third time, before saying "it became a bomb. And if you didn't click it again real fast like…" Again she paused to click it one more time "It'd blow the hell out of the joint?"

Elle's eye brows raised. "You have got to be kidding me. That is a bomb?"

Garcia held the pen up, clicked it three times and said "Maybe…" Clicked it a fourth time. "Maybe not. But we won't find out in MY office." Sticking the suspicious pen behind her ear, she asked "So, what can the lady of the data stream do for you, oh so lowsome peasant of the physical realm?" Her nose wiggled, and her eyes darted about.

Elle tapped the laptop. "Reid's computer. It might have something on it, but it's password protected and we can't figure it out."

"Of course not." Garcia mumbled as she glanced around the room, sniffing loudly. "Reid's a genius with a photographic memory. He uses a nonsense password."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning the password changes every so many hours and is made of random letters, numbers, and symbols that he memorized the sequence of sometime ago. Only an awesome brain can pop that lid."

"So…. You can't do it?"

"Didn't say that." Garcia pointed out, rubbing her nose. Her eyes narrowed as she glared down at the small cage sitting at Elle's feet. "Is that a cat!" she asked, though it sounded more like an accusation.

"Well, I'm not the expert, but looks like one to me.." Elle answered. "He's Reid's. Thought he could use the company and I just couldn't leave him back at the loft with all the CSI guys running around. So the laptop…"

"That shouldn't be here." Garcia told her, her nose twitching. "Do you know what cat fur can do to a computer system? And that smell…. And those things claw everything!" She glared up at her, sniffing. "If my chair gets shredded, I'm gonna sue!" Her chin trembled. "Not to mention, some of us are…" Suddenly she sneezed with such explosive force that Elle practically leaped forward to catch her. Sniffing loudly, she glared up at her again. "… allergic."

"Oh…. Sorry." Elle quickly grabbed the cage and backed toward the door. "But the laptop…."

"Out! Let the great mystic do her…." another sneeze landed Garcia back in her chair. "OUT!"

Elle quickly slipped out into the hall, closing the door behind her. She winced when she heard a third sneeze quickly followed by a fourth. With a sigh, Elle glanced down at the cat cage. "She's not going to let me forget this." she complained to the feline.

Galen offered a consoling meow, but, otherwise, seemed undisturbed by the agent's possible future discomfort.

"Elle!" Morgan called out as he came down the hall with J.J. Between them was…

"Abby." Elle growled.

The prisoner tilted her head to one side, smiling a calm, sweet smile. Her eyes flickered to the cat cage. "And how is Galen? Have you fed him?"

"Shut up." Derek snapped. He nodded to two agents who had accompanied them as added security for the prisoner. "Interrogation Two." he ordered before stepping aside to let them walk on.

"I'm going to keep an eye on her." J.J. let them know as she continued on with the prisoner.

When they were down the hall and gone, Morgan turned his attention on Elle. Crossing his arms over his chest, he asked "So, having fun yet?"

"No." she answered without the slightest hint of amusement. She threw her head in the direction J.J. went. "She okay? She looks pretty pissed off."

Morgan smiled. "Yea, well, let's just say I found out why she doesn't go on raids and such."

"Why's that?"

"She's too damn mean!"

Elle started to laugh, but then stopped when she saw Morgan wasn't laughing. "Oh, you have got to tell me what happened."

88888

His world was a kaleidoscope of vague images. Odd shapes and colors, hints of details, twisting and turning, swirling in toward the center where they came together for the briefest of heart beats, forming a complete picture, a still shot of a memory.

Images, places, people, things…

He knew them, he recognized them.

It was just on the tip of his tongue…

But the kaleidoscope continued to turn, the images pulled apart, the bits and pieces and details lost to the debris of the whirlpool.

He tried to focus on one particular detail, try to concentrate on it, keep it in sight, don't let it get away….

A blade, squared tip, edge glistening as it tipped up, pressed into the soft flesh. A thin red line, a trickle of blood, sliding down, dripping into the whirlpool, twisting and swirling away…

Swirled and twisted…

Spinning…

going around…

and around….

and around…

and around…..

His world lurched, aching, sick, begging him to look away.

He tried to squeeze his eyes close, only to discover he wasn't using them.

He reached out, trying to capture images, stop the swirling. But, as his finger tips dipped into the swirling, trickling blood rolled down his fingers, spreading out into the water.

The red swirled into the whirlpool, seeping into the kaleidoscope images, until all there was was swirling blood red.

He felt panicked as the last of the only things in the world he recognized was drowned in the blood dyed waters. He grasped at the vanishing bits, but the odd shapes and colors, hints of details slipped away, sinking into the darkening pool of red.

When there was nothing left for the blood to drown out, it turned its attention to him, climbing up his arms. Higher and higher, over his shoulders, pulling him into its warm, sticky embrace, like a mother pulls her child to her breast….

And smothers him to death…

88888

Hotch glanced up from the his desk when he heard the whimper.

Reid was sitting sideways on the couch, his knees were pulled to his chest, his head leaning to the side against the cushions. His eyes were closed, but twitching, his fingers seemingly to scratch absently at the cuts on his arms, leaving red, angry looking marks, some of which were bleeding slightly.

Hotch considered going over, waking him up, but thought better of it. He had no doubt what made his agent whimper had something to do with memories.

Lost memories.

Memories that would only be found if he let Reid face them, however bad, however frightening. Spencer Reid had to face them, had to remember them if Hotch and the rest of the team had any hope of helping him.

But, as the young man twisted, a soft cry escaping before he turned his face into the couch cushions, Hotch rose to his feet, ready to run to the rescue, whatever the consequences.

A tap at the window just above the couch stopped him. He looked up to see Gideon just on the other side, offering a calm, reassuring smile.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch steadied himself. Quietly, he crossed his office and slipped out the door, carefully closing the door behind him and, after a hesitation, locking it.

"Aaron." Gideon greeted, though his smile faltered slightly when he saw the locked door.

Hotch shrugged slightly. "He seems to have picked up a tendency to wander off." he explained.

"How did he get here?" Gideon wondered a mixture of amusement and surprise twinkling in his expression.

"Apparently, he walked." He couldn't quite hide the amazement from his voice. It would have been a long, cold walk for some one in a winter coat, boots, and good health. For Reid… "His slippers were shredded. His feet aren't in too much better shape." He paused to look through the window at Reid.

"He's dreaming." Gideon observed.

Hotch nodded. "He's been sleeping mostly. Garcia tried to get him to eat something, but that lasted about ten minutes before he was sick.." He rubbed the bridge of his nose with a long, tired sigh.

Gideon looked at him. "You should try to get some sleep. Get some rest while you can." he suggested.

The agent shook his head. "More frustrated than tired." he admitted. "Jason, what the hell is going on?"

"Seems to be the popular question." Sheriff Jackson took the steps two at a time until he was on the same level as the agents. With a shrug, he tugged on the visitor's badge clipped to the star on his chest. "Didn't know it took so much to get through your doors." He looked through the window. "Ah, there's our boy." Then started for the door.

But Hotch stepped in his way.

Jackson stopped. His eyes narrowed as he looked at the agent in front of him. "I thought we had a deal!" he growled, more warning than question.

"I thought we did too." Hotch answered just as dangerously.

Gideon tilted his head to one side, curious as to Hotch's stance. He wondered just what had happened? Better yet, what was about to happen?

The Sheriff tilted his head to one side. "Wanna tell me what you mean by that? Think I broke the deal?"

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. "Two sheriffs deputies, claiming to be under your order, entered this department and tried to forcibly remove Agent Reid from here."

"Indeed?" Gideon's eye brows rose, tilting his head until he was looking at Jackson.

Sheriff Jackson shrugged. "They were ordered to keep an eye out for the boy."

"Doctor." Gideon corrected. "Dr. Reid."

Jackson pointed a finger at Hotch. "Deal was that you would keep him in custody. Yet, somehow, he made it from the hospital to here… without a single FBI tag along." He shrugged. "So, my deputies saw a possible murder suspect supposedly in custody wandering around. They did their job. They attempted to pick him up." he concluded.

Hotch was not satisfied. "Was it also their job to threaten and abuse one of our civilian staff… without identifying themselves?"

Gideon stiffened. "Who?" he wanted to know.

"Garcia." Hotch answered, glancing at him. Seeing his concern, he quickly added "She's alright. Feeling less secure, but alright."

Both agents turned their attention back to the Sheriff, waiting for an explanation.

Apparently, Jackson didn't have one. Spreading his hands, he said "There's no excuse for that behavior. If it's true, they will be disciplined." But then he set his hands on his hips. "But that doesn't change the fact that that doctor' is still a witness, a possible suspect, and I need to question him."

Hotch shook his head. "Not until he is released from doctor's care."

Jackson huffed. "I don't see a doctor." he pointed out.

"As you pointed out, he slipped out of doctor's care." Gideon brought up, backing his man with a crooked smile. "As you might know, slipped out and released are not the same."

Jackson dropped his chin to his chest, shaking his head. Chuckling, he looked back up at the two men. "So? The boy's not the only one thinks he's too smart for normal society, huh? Seems to be the tone of your brainiac club here." Not bothering to wait for an answer, he spun about. "I understand that you have brought in the attacker from the hospital? May I, at least, sit in on the interrogation?"

Hotch nodded once, though the man wasn't looking at him. "Roberts." he called to an agent who was standing nearby, keeping a protective eye on the office that held their youngest agent.

The man snapped to. "Sir?"

"Show Sheriff Jackson to the observation room of Interrogation." Hotch ordered.

Roberts nodded. "Yes, sir." He hurried to get ahead of the Sheriff, looking back at him to say "This way, sir."

Jackson waved a sarcastic hand, following the man.

When out of ear shot, Hotch turned a frown at Gideon. "How many people use the term brainiac'?" he wondered.

Gideon also frowned. "Not many. Why?"

Hotch shook his head. "I'm not sure yet." He glanced back at his office. "I need to go talk to Garcia."

Gideon held out his hand. "Go. I'll sit with Reid." he offered.

Hotch dropped his office keys in Gideon's hand. "I'll stop back before going to interrogation." he promised before hurrying off.

He was half way to Garcia's office when he saw Derek and Elle.

"Hey, Hotch, man, did you miss something." Derek greeted him.

"I heard." Hotch answered. "Is J.J. alright?"

Derek nodded. "A couple of bruises. But she'll live." Then it was his turn. "How's the kid? Did he really walk all the way? It's freakin' cold out there!"

But Hotch was otherwise distracted. "Elle, Reid's laptop…"

"Delivered to Garcia safe and sound." Garcia assured. "Though I'm not quite sure she said she could or couldn't break the password. She seemed to have cat issues." She indicated the cage Derek now carried.

"Think she has cat issues?" Derek chuckled. "You should see what happened when she met my little, sweet pooch."

"That thing!" Elle turned on him. "Is neither little nor sweet…. Okay, maybe overly sweet. Like having a horse confusing itself with one of those little wiener dogs."

"Drop the cat off at my office." Hotch interrupted. "Then the two of you get down to interrogation. Take the two deputies. Something is off about the way they handle themselves."

"What about Sheriff Jackson?" Elle wondered. "He's not going to like…"

"Good." Hotch finished. "We want him on edge. In fact, I want him right out uncomfortable."

Derek and Elle glanced at each other, but, alas, they trusted Hotch, knew that he knew what he was doing. So they started on their way.

But, as if remembering something, Hotch called Morgan back. "Derek, did you get anything from the woman?"

"Not a word. Not even serial number."

Hotch frowned. "Serial number? You think she's military?"

Morgan shook his head. "Military, no. Someone a lot quieter and meaner, though. Someone who can get their hands on and know how to use Kerasine."

"Kerasine?" Hotch paused. "Where did you hear about Kerasine?" he wanted to know.

Morgan stopped, puzzled at the expression on his friend's face. Now that's a look he hadn't seen before. "Kerasine." he repeated, slowly, carefully watching Hotch's reaction, trying to read him. "It was one of the drugs in Reid's system. It's a…."

"Government tested drug that makes the subject highly susceptible to hypnotic suggestion and/or brainwashing. Yes, I know." Hotch shook his head. "That's a very much Top Secret subject. Only a few, very select people of a very select organization would have known about it, much less have access to it and know how to use it." He frowned.

When Hotch didn't continue, Morgan had to ask "Anyone we know?"

Hotch looked at him for a long, silent moment, before finally answering with one, simple word. "Gideon."


	6. Six

Whispers….

"Leave him…"

Pleading…

"he's done nothing to you…"

From the shadows that moved just at the edge of his memory.

"please… leave him out of this…

Whispers, hissing, pleading, so quiet he wasn't really sure he was hearing them.

"He's an FBI agent… never get away with this…"

So quiet, he leaned closer, trying to hear.

Suddenly the whisper was a scream, shattering his eardrums, echoing in his head, exploding against the back of his eyes.

"REID! RUN! GET AWAY! GET AWAY!"

"Get away!" Reid gasped, bolting upright, grabbing at the cushions with one hand while striking at the shadows with the other.

When his swinging hand met with no resistance, he froze, realizing that what he thought was out there… wasn't.

So, what was?

Taking a shaky breath, Reid dared to open his eyes. At first, nothing had changed. There were shadows all about him, nothing quite visible enough.

But then he recognized feelings.

He could feel the soft cushions of the couch.

He could feel the warmth of a blanket thrown over his legs.

He could feel the ache of his feet, the twisting of his gut, the pounding in his head.

Then, out of the corner of his eye, he recognized something else. Light.

Turning his head, he saw a desk lamp sitting on the edge of a desk across the room from him. Special Agent Dr. Jason Gideon sat behind the desk, papers in hand, looking back at him, watching him through the shadows.

"Gideon?" Reid breathed, hoping to produce a sound that he recognized.

The older man sat his papers down. "Reid." he answered softly.

Reid could of feinted with relief. He knew that name. That was his name! And he knew that man! Even if he didn't quite remember him beyond that day, he knew him!

It was something. It wasn't much, but, damn it, it was something!

With a heavy sigh, he relaxed some, turning on the couch and dropping his feet to the floor. Resting his elbows on his knees, he dropped his head down, tangling his fingers in his hair.

It was something.

Gideon rose from his seat and crossed the room to the couch, turning on the end table lamp, chasing the shadows away. Sitting on the edge of the coffee table, he reached out and wrapped his fingers around Reid's wrist.

Instantly the young agent stiffened, his eyes snapping up, his breath catching.

Gideon waited a moment, letting the boy get used to his touch again. Then, careful not to make any sudden or forceful moves, he pulled the arm out, turning it so he could inspect the cuts. "You need to stop clawing at them." he advised. "They'll scar." He snatched a tissue from the box on the table and dabbed at the cuts.

Reid watched him for a long time, before asking "Are you mad at me? For running away?"

Gideon glanced up at him, flashing that famous half smile of his. Then returned his attention to the cuts. "No." he answered. "A little frightened, but not mad." he admitted.

Reid frowned. "Frightened?" he wondered.

Jason Gideon shrugged. "J.J. and Derek are your friends. They were there to protect you." he explained. "If you run away from our protection…" He glanced up again, but, this time the smile was no where in sight. "How can we protect you?"

The boy tilted his head to one side, confused, bewildered even. He was genuinely concerned, worried… about him!

Why did they worry about him? Why did they want to protect him? What was he to these people?

"What has to get away?" Gideon suddenly asked.

Again Reid frowned. "What?"

Gideon released his arm and sat up. "When you woke up, you said get away.' What had to get away?"

Reid blinked at him, once, twice… then his eyes closed. "Get away?" he whispered, more to himself.

What had to get away?

The shadows.

The rumble.

A light…. Then it was gone.

Another light… then it was gone.

The whispering… just barely out of ear shot….

Yet he could still hear them…

As if…. As if through a fog….

"You don't have to do this. He doesn't know anything."

"Consider it paying your does."

"He has nothing to do with this!"

"He has everything to do with this!"

"I won't let you hurt him. I won't allow it!"

"For being such a braniac, you sure are stupid."

"He's an FBI Agent!"

"If you had done what you were told, we wouldn't need him! It was you who did this to him!"

The rush of icy air.

The squeal of tires.

"REID! RUN! GET AWAY!"

"Get away." he whispered again.

Gideon reached out and cupped Reid's chin.

Reid's hand jerked up, grabbing his wrist, his eyes snapping open.

Again, Gideon asked "What had to get away?"

Reid blinked at him, once, twice… "I did." he answered, his voice void of any emotion. "I had to get away."

"You, oh handsome one, are going to love me!" Garcia sang, spinning about in her chair and looking up at Hotch.  
Hotch crossed his arms over his chest and tilted his head to one side, waiting.

Garcia waited for him to coax the answer out of her, but, when he didn't, she frowned. Shaking a pink feathered topped pen at him, she complained "Has anyone ever told you that you are absolutely no fun what so ever?"

"Anything about this day seems fun to you?" the man wondered.

Garcia grinned. "This does." She spun about again and tilted a lap top screen back so Hotch could see. "Tada! An ordinary looking e-mail filled with ordinary information about Senator Dumb Ass from a seemingly ordinary Yahoo! Group Brainy University."

Hotch nodded. "We found hard copies of the same thing in Reid's apartment." He shook his head. "Strange, but…" He shrugged, admitting that he didn't know what it meant.

Garcia held up one finger. "Watch, oh sweet naïve one, as the most divine being of the information Highway turns water to wine." Striking a single key, she opened another e-mail.

A blue screen popped up titled in red with "The Alpha/Omega Files." Barely giving them time to read the title, the page began to scroll, passing page after page of black writing, moving almost too fast for the eye to follow.

Hotch could only focus on a word here and there: "failed" "operation" "tested" "denied" The page sped by so fast that he wasn't sure if he was actually seeing words or just gibberish.

Then the screen snapped close, revealing underneath another ordinary, unamazing e-mail all about the life and times of Senator Dommas.

"What the hell…" was all Hotch could manage, shaking his head. He turned confused eyes to Garcia.

The woman gaped at him. "Agent Hotchner! Watch your language!" She smiled. "And it's a Flash Record." Garcia explained. "Large amount of information zapped into an e-mail, hidden under boring script. Once open, if the recipient has a key, it does that. Well, almost that."

"You have the key?"

Garcia shook her head. "Reid has, at least, a partial key. That's why it didn't stay up, why, when he tried to print the information, or save it somehow, he only got these." She held up a hand full of the papers recovered from Reid's apartment.

Hotch frowned. "If whoever wanted Reid to have these files, why would they only send him a partial key? Why did they even hide the information? Why not just send it to him? Even if they wanted to keep it unnoticed, there are secure channels." He waved a hand at the computer. "What was that? Thirty seconds?"

"Never lasts more than forty-five to sixty seconds. Too fast to read… well, for us to read." She looked up at Hotch pointedly.

Hotch suddenly understood. "Reid can read that fast."

"He can read that fast. He has a photographic memory. And, and don't forget this, his little bouncy brain can decode the DaVinci Code without even bothering to see the movie." She scrunched up her nose. "Little brat."

But then Garcia spread her hands. "And a genius is born." She shrugged. "Well, reaffirmed anyway." She turned her attention back to the laptop. "If someone hacked the key, chances are they would only get a partial key. A Flash Record's key all depends on the author of the original lock. The original computer of said author leaves a finger print For a complete key, we need to identify that computer and mimic its fingerprint."

"So… if someone was hacking this Alpha/Omega file, could only produce that partial key, they would need someone like Reid to translate it for them." Hotch mumbled, thinking out loud.

"Yea, so why'd they go extreme on our beautiful baby boy?" Garcia wanted to know. "Why'd they dope him up? Why'd they cut on him?" Suddenly she snapped her fingers in the air, making Hotch jump.

"What?" Hotch snapped, glancing about.

Garcia scooted the laptop aside and punched out a few keys on her own keyboard, pulling up a couple of pictures on her overhead screens. "The cuts on Reid's arms. Morgan sent a couple of pictures. Look." She pointed at them.

Hotch frowned once more. "Alpha and Omega. Someone didn't want him to forget." he mumbled. "But who?" He closed his eyes, taking a moment to wish the pounding in his head to subside. Seemed like every time they answered one question, five more popped up. Finally sighing, he looked down at Garcia. "Can you complete the key?"

Garcia actually hesitated, as if she might have a little doubt. But then she flashed him a smile. "Is bubble gum pink?"

Hotch raised one eye brow.

Garcia rolled her eyes. "Yesss!"

Hotch finally smiled slightly. "And the other thing…"

"Yes, sirree!" Garcia spun about in her chair to another computer. "Deputies Ugly and Uglier have a short, yet boring history." She keyed in the requested files. "Both born in little town, Midwest, pre-computer era, pre-saving-anything-for-future-reference era…. crap, far as I can tell they're running off hamster powered generators."

"No backgrounds?" Hotch frowned.

"Backgrounds, sure." Garcia waved a hand at the computer screen where two bios appeared, side by side for comparison. "But they're rubberstamped backgrounds. Practically only difference from one to the other is a few, and I do mean a few, name changes." She shook a finger at the screen. "It's like Men in Black. We should check and see if they're fingerprints have been seared off or something super spy like!"

Hotch crossed his arms over his chest. "When did they join the sheriff's department?"

Garcia hit the scroll. "Um… couple of weeks off from each other… in '00." She paused, her head tilting to the side. "Isn't that when Dumb-ass ruined the neighborhood?"

Hotch nodded slightly, though, at that point he was barely listening to her. "Dommas teaches Ethics…"

The computer tech huffed. "Yea, with an unhealthy lesson in keeping your mouth shut."

The agent glanced at her sharply. "Yes." he agreed after a moment. "What was Dommas doing before he was a senator?"

Garcia smiled. "And I thought you would never ask." One click and another bio appeared up beside the other two. "About thirty years older than the other two, but… hey! Looky there! Smallville, Kent Farm, Yadda, Yadda, Yadda." She looked up at him expectantly.

"Artificial backgrounds." Hotch closed his eyes. "C.I.A."

Garcia bobbed her head. "That or we stumbled upon the dim-witted version of Eureka."

"Dommas has intelligence training." Hotch was thinking out loud. "It is unusual, but not unheard of, for a team to follow a team leader into retirement, particularly if they're a special unit. Jason did profiles for the C.I.A." The man frowned. "Did he profile Dommas' unit? Did that force them into retirement?"

"Gideon?" Garcia looked up at him.

"Garcia, can you access Central Intelligence files?"

The woman suddenly looked way too innocent. "Do you know the penalty for…"

"Garcia…"

"And we thought you were such a Boy Scout!" she chirped with a grin. Turning back to her main keyboard she asked "How deep do I get to go?"

"Find out when Gideon and Dommas first crossed paths." He paused before adding "No phone numbers."

Garcia hesitated, her eyes flickering back at him. "You know about that?" she asked almost too softly to be heard.

Hotch actually smiled. "Let's call it an educated guess. Let me know as soon as you find out anything." He started to turn to leave, but stopped. "Garcia, can you check a computer for the key?" he wondered.

Garcia gave an exaggerated sigh. "No rest for the wicked." She tilted her head to one side. "You have a particular computer in mind?" she wondered with a smile, knowing he wouldn't have asked if hadn't had one in mind.

"A few." the agent mumbled. He crossed his arms over his chest, his brow scrunched up in a frown.

When he didn't continue, Garcia leaned back so she could look up at him, catching his eyes. "Sweety, I'm good, but I'm no mind reader." she pointed out.

Hotch looked at her sharply, his eyes narrowing. After a breath, he nodded slightly, more to himself, than to her. "Dommas'. I'll have it brought to you. And I'll work on getting our hands on his office system." He nodded again, this time stronger, as if he was agreeing with himself, with his chosen path of action. "And check Gideon's office computer. Start with his. He's in my office with Reid, so his office is empty just right now."

Garcia had to turn in her chair and look at him straight on. "Gideon's computer?"

"And, Garcia, this is between you and me." Hotch cautioned. "No one else. Understood?"

"You think Gideon would hurt Reid?" The woman shook her head. "They're practically father and pup! Gideon would never hurt…"

"I never said he did… or would." Hotch quickly corrected her. Taking a deep breath, he leaned down, speaking softly to her, as if worried someone else might hear. "Gideon is connected to Dommas. And Dommas is connected to what happened to Reid. I don't know what that connection is. And I need to know."

The computer tech looked at him for another moment, before slowly nodding. "Yea… sure. I'll check it out." she assured. "But I won't find anything."

Hotch offered her a smile. Nodding once more, then he walked out of the room.

Morgan paced, his cool anger obvious in every snapped step, every tense muscle, every ground out word. "Just what made you think you could come in here, smack around an FBI tech, and walk out with one of our agents?"  
Elle crossed her arms over her chest, leaning back in her chair. "So, is that…like… specialty training? Or were you improvising?" she asked with a smirk.

The Sheriff Deputy smiled back. "It was improvising." he admitted in light tone, as if he was talking with friends at a dinner party rather than being interrogated by angry FBI agents. He shrugged. "A very smart young man in unknown condition… mentally and physically… able to slip out of FBI custody, linked to a violent crime in some unknown way… possibly the unsub himself…"

"Reid did not hurt anyone!" Elle snapped. She bounced a knuckle on the table, looking up at her partner. "You know, I'm really getting tired of saying that."

The other deputy threw his hands in the air. "What the hell is wrong with you people?" he demanded. "We followed an escaped murder suspect! If he didn't happen to be your little pet nerd, he would be sitting in here, listening to some nerdy profile saying just why the hell he did it… instead of us!" He shook a finger at Elle. "We're cops, you know!? We're the good guys!"

"Good guys don't assault a helpless computer tech!" Morgan snapped.

"Helpless, my ass!" the man snapped back before he was silenced by his partner's upraised hand.

Hawkins shook his head. "I did not assault Miss. Garcia. My intent was to move here away from our suspect and to a safe distance. We did not, and still do not, know his emotional state. We did not know if he would hurt her." This time he held up his hand, silencing Elle's protest. "My intent was to move her away from the situation as you would have done in any like situation. Remove the civilians to a safe location."

"You can move someone without hurting them." Elle pointed out.

Hawkins shrugged. "She resisted." With a sigh, he spread his hands. "And, as your own Agent Hotchner saw himself, we had reason to be concerned. Agent Reid had a weapon."

"Yea!" his partner blurted. "Little punk had a gun!"

Morgan's answer was instant and violent, spinning about and slamming his fist down on the table. "THAT little punk is an F.B.I. Agent!" he roared.

"THAT FBI Agent pulled a gun on us!" the man snapped right back.

"Gentlemen!" Hawkins reprimanded, shaking his head. When both men looked at him, he sighed and turned his attention to Elle. "I don't need to explain my actions any further than I have. We were justified. If you don't believe so, then make the arrests and call our lawyers." With that, he shut his mouth, crossed his arms over his chest, and leaned back in his chair.

Elle slammed the door behind her. "How about we throw them in a cell with some real bad asses? Show him what resistance really looks like!" she suggested.  
Sheriff Jackson leaned against the viewing window, his arms crossed over his chest. He smiled slightly and shrugged. "Well, now that would be illegal, considering that they did nothing wrong."

Morgan threw him a glare. "You're saying you support what they did?" she challenged.

Jackson took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "I would have preferred that, once Agent Reid had entered this building, that they notified me and requested further instructions. At which point I would have told them that I, along with which ever one of you happened to have been with me at that moment, am on my way and to wait." Again he shrugged. "That's what I would have preferred. None the less, what they did do was within the scope of their duty." He turned his eyes to Morgan. "Putting him into G.P. would be, in the very least, attempted assault. Could end up First Degree. You really want to go there?"

Elle tilted her head to one side, but it was J.J.'s cooler head that answered. "No one wants friction between the your department and the F.B.I." she told him.

Jackson offered her a friendly smile. "Neglecting to point out that friction already exists. Very P.R. of you." He glanced at Morgan. "Do I get my men back now?"

This time it was Elle who was ready to answer. "Why don't we let a judge decide what was in the scope of their duty?"

The Sheriff sighed, his head dropping. After a moment, he looked up again. "If that's what you want…" He shrugged. "Then on to other matters." He looked directly at Elle. "Can you tell me when the last time you saw Agent Reid was? Before today, that is."

The agent's eyes narrowed, her voice dropped to a growl. "What?!"

As if to the rescue, Jackson's cell phone rang. He held up a finger. "Hold that thought." he said, before stepping away to answer the call.

"Morgan, Elle." Hotch called as he entered. He threw a glance at the Sheriff who offered a smile and a wave, before returning to his call. Hotch continued on to his agents. "What did we learn?" he wanted to know.

Morgan turned his attention back to the one way window and the deputies sitting on the other side. "Hawkins is the control. He calls all the shots on the team. He's cold, calculated. He doesn't do anything without all possible outcomes planned for."

Hotch crossed his arms. "Separate them?"

Elle shook her head. "Franklin doesn't know anything. He's the muscle. Nothing more."

Morgan agreed. "He's Hawkins' crowbar. You don't tell your crowbar when nor how you intend to use it."

The lead agent sighed, running a hand through his hair. "In your opinion… is Hawkins Agency trained?"

"Agency?" J.J. repeated.

"You're talking about the C.I.A.?" Elle and J.J. looked at each other, hoping the other might have more information than she had.

But Morgan focused on Hotch. "Trained, definitely. Agency, good possibility." Then he shook his head. "But, if he is, he isn't good enough to have lasted long. Good training, but he's too cocky. he gives away too much with body language." He glanced over his shoulder to another door. "Nowhere near as good as she is."

"Humph." Elle smiled slightly. "Maybe we should let her question him."

Sheriff Jackson snapped his cell phone close, letting the agents know he was back in the picture. When he had their attention, he tilted his head to one side. "Ladies and gentlemen, situation has changed."

A statement that made them all uneasy.

"How?" Hotch wanted to know, stepping in front of his team.

Slipping his phone back into his pocket, he informed them "We now have a body to go with the blood pool. Mrs. Dommas' body was found in the garden house on property. The murder weapon was found beside the body." His eye brows rose. "And guess who's bloody little fingerprints are all over the weapon and body?"

Elle opened her mouth to protest one more time, but Hotch spoke first, asking "Who?" He knew the answer. He just needed the man to say it, make it official.

Sheriff Jackson locked eyes with the man. "Your pet boy, Special Agent Dr. Spencer Reid."

This time it was Hotch who sighed, dropping his head.

"Ah, hell." Morgan cursed, spinning about and taking a few steps away from the news.

"There's no way Reid killed her!" Elle snapped.

Jackson shrugged. "The warrant is being faxed to you as we speak." He waited until Hotch looked up again before asking "Do you want to wait for it? Or you want to get it over with now?"

"Get what over with?" J.J. wanted to know.

Special Agent Aaron Hotchner's eyes never left Sheriff Jackson as he answered "Arresting Reid for murder."


	7. Seven

It came in a mixture of flashes and a fog seeping through the cracks of a brick wall…

His hair was wet, towel around his shoulders…

… she was crying, blood trickling down from her hair line…

His computer beeped: new mail.

…. "please…." she whispered, her voice trembling, "please, don't do this…"

It was another one. Words scrolling up the screen.

… she screamed, the blade slowly pushing straight in, slicing through the meat of her shoulder, going deeper, deeper…

His eyes narrowed, focusing on the words, his mind automatically freezing each frame, imprinting it to memory.

… "Please! Stop!" he yelled. "I… can't! I won't!" He shook his head, pulling against the ropes that cut into his wrists. "Hurting her won't change that!"….

He heard the sound, his head coming around. Galen topped the stairs, ran between his feet to find cover under the desk.

… the scream was cut off by a gurgling sound. He was crying. "Please… just let her die…. please…."

He pulled open the dresser drawer, reached down to pick up his gun and the clip beside it.

… her body jerked, her eyes wide with fear and pain, blood bubbling out the corner of her lips…

He slowly turned, his gun held up, ready.

… "why? Why did you hurt her? Why?" he cried, shaking his head…

Hand wrapped around the barrel of the gun, twisting it aside, popping his wrist.

… he looked down at his hands, warm and sticky, red with blood….

The weapon was twisted until his knuckles cracked, his muscles screaming in protest…

… a hand touched his arm…

He squeezed his eyes tight, trying not to see, not wanting to see the blood make perfect little swirls on the wall, the mirror image of the swirls and patterns on the palm of his own hand.

The hand squeezed gently. "Spence?"

His body shivered so strongly, his bones moaned in protest.

"Spence, it's alright." she whispered. "You're safe."

He finally opened his eyes, blinking up at her. "There was a lot of blood." he told her.

J.J. hesitated, her hand on his arm flinching. But she licked her lips and forced herself to ask "Blood? Who's blood?"

His eyes narrowed, then he looked away, his eyes scanning the room. "Where's Gideon?" he wanted to know, panic suddenly gripping onto him when he realized the man was no longer in the room.

"He's just outside," J.J. assured. "He had to talk to Hotch."

He tilted his head to one side and, in the blink of his eyes, the panic was gone. "Oh." he mumbled before he started to wander around the office again. His eyes scanned every picture, every framed certificate, every book.

J.J. watched as he moved. He looked so lost she just wanted to wrap her arms around him. but she knew that would be a mistake. He still flinched when she came too close, still backed away from her touch.

She frowned. He didn't seem to get along with women as much as men. She wondered if that was important, wondered if anyone else, if any of the profilers had noticed that yet.

So many questions…

She paused. "Spence?" she called to him softly.

He barely glanced at her, the slightest movement of his eyes the only acknowledgement that he gave her, before returning to his scrutiny of the world around him.

J.J. leaned back against the desk and asked again "Who's blood?"

"Who's?" Reid repeated, his eyes dropping for a moment, his brow scrunched up in thought. Then his head came up again, his head snapping about, his eyes locking on something on the desk beside J.J. "Agent Hotchner…" he mumbled under his breath.

"Hotch?" J.J. felt her heart skip, but a quick glance at the office window assured her that the Hotch was still talking with Gideon just outside. Frowning, she turned back to Reid.

The young agent walked across the room to the desk with intention, reaching out and picking up a picture from the desk. "Agent Hotchner has a wife and baby." he mumbled to himself, his fingers tracing the frame.

"He does." J.J answered. She reached out and took a hold of the picture.

Reid's eyes snapped up at her.

Taking the picture, J.J. asked one more time. "Who's blood?"

His eyes narrowed. "I… " he started, but stopped. Absently, he started to scratch at the cuts on his arms again. "There was a lot." he told her. His eyes snapped about, looking at things that weren't really there, widening with fear before narrowing with thought and confusion. "Enough… four pints… why so much?" he mumbled, more to himself than anyone else.

J.J. bit her lip. It killed her to see him like this, looking so lost, knowing there was nothing she could do but wait it out. "Spence…" she breathed, laying a hand over his. "Don't scratch…"

Instantly he recoiled, his hand snapping out to knock hers away.

She quickly held her hands up and away. "I'm sorry."

Blinking, he looked up at her. "Why do you call me that?" he wondered.

J.J. blinked back. "What? Spence?" She shrugged. "It's your name."

He shook his head. "My name's Spencer Reid. I have three Doctorates; 187 IQ; I read 20,000 words per minute. I know a lot of stuff… not all of it useful. I don't know why I know it. Perhaps because I remember everything I read. Do you know how much there is to read simply by looking around? You don't have to try. Words are just there. So, I must have just read everything whether it meant anything or not. Did you know I know every word of every script of the Star Trek series?"

"I know." J.J. answered a little quickly, hoping to cut him off from what she knew could be a very long list of what he knew. She smile slightly, shrugging again. "I've just always called you Spence." she admitted.

"No one else does." he pointed out.

"They don't?" She frowned. "Do you want me to stop calling you Spence?" she asked.

He blinked at her again, but finally shook his head, dropping his eyes and his attention back to the cuts on his arms.

J.J. couldn't help but sigh a little with relief. She would have been hurt if he told her not to call him that.

Reid turned away and started to pace the room, his fingers working on the cuts.

Licking her lips, J.J. pushed away from the desk and followed. "Spence, what about the blood?" she persisted.

"It was her blood." he answered without hesitation this time. His fingers roamed across the bindings of the books in the case he faced.

Again, J.J. flinched. She had really hoped he wouldn't know. Swallowing hard, she forced herself to ask "Did… did you hurt Mrs. Dommas?"

Reid's head snapped about, his eyes locking one her. "Did I?" he wondered. His eyes glanced about the room again, as if looking for the answer some where's on the walls. "Did I hurt someone?" he asked, his voice straining, an all too familiar panic building up. He shook his head, squeezing his eyes close. "I… I remember… blood… There was a lot of blood." He looked down at his hands, rubbing his fingers together, feeling the warmth, the stick…

He wrapped his arms around himself, shivering so hard his teeth chattered. Squeezing his eyes against the cold, he growled "Why can't I remember?"

All work in the BAU had ceased. Their individual cases forgotten, the agents stood in huddles around the Bull Pen, talking in hushed and, in many cases, angry whispers, suspicious glances being thrown at the sheriff who had intruded in on their world to take away one of their own.  
Not just one of their own.

Their youngest…

Their gentlest…

Their most innocent….

Agent Hotchner took in the mood of his agents with a trained eye. He didn't like what he saw. Not that he could blame any of them for being upset, but they were officers of the law, agents of the FBI, investigators and enforcers of the law. They knew what the situation was and they knew what had to be done.

Procedures had to be followed!

For Reid as much as for the case.

Gideon stepped up beside him and glanced about the Bull Pen. After a moment, he spoke "Sheriff Jackson will take custody of Reid and transfer him to his own office for questioning."

It was a statement, not a question.

None the less, Hotch nodded slightly. "I sent Morgan and Elle out to see what they can learn from the crime scene."

"Good." Gideon mumbled. "Good."

For a long, uncomfortable moment they stood in silence, each struggling with his own thoughts.

Then, taking a deep breath, Hotch crossed his arms over his chest and asked "What is the Alpha/Omega File?"

Gideon's eyes narrowed. His lips pressed tightly together in a moment of thought, before he turned to look at the agent. "Alpha/Omega File?" he repeated.

Hotch finally looked at him. "Someone was sending it to Reid. What was done to him was done because of it. Whatever has been done to Dommas and his wife happened because of it. And the only connection between Reid and Dommas is through you." He was careful to keep the frustration from his voice, the anger, the feel of betrayal he wasn't even sure he should be feeling.

But Gideon was too good of a profiler, too good of a friend, to have missed it. His head dipping to the side, he opened his mouth to speak…

"Agent Hotchner." Sheriff Jackson interrupted as he came up the steps, a deputy in tow. He handed the agent a stack of papers. "Your warrant. Now, with your permission…" He waved a hand at Hotch's office where Reid could be seen through the window, limping about, J.J. close behind.

Hotch made a show of unfolding the papers, taking a good look at each one. He could feel the eyes of the entire room on him, waiting for him to tell this outsider where he could put his suspicions, his accusations, his warrant…

If he was anyone else, he would have.

If he was anyone else he wouldn't be leading this unit.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch folded the papers up again and nodded. Standing tall, he stepped pass the men and walked for his office. Opening the door, he stepped in.

Reid's head snapped about at the sound of the door opening, instantly, stumbling back, taking a defense position.

J.J. quickly held his hand up. "Take it easy, Spence. It's just Hotch. Remember what I said…?"

"Of course I remember!" the young agent snapped, as if the thought that he had forgotten anything else was as horrifying as forgetting everything else.

Hotch glanced at J.J.

The girl sighed. "He's been remembering flashes, I think. But then he got angry." She picked up a blanket from the couch and started to follow him again, explaining to Hotch "And he's shivering again."

Reid swatted the blanket away. "I'm not cold!" he snapped again.

Hotch closed his eyes, reaching up to rub the ridge of his nose. He took a moment to wonder just how many aspirin had he already taken. "It's the withdrawal symptoms. He'll be going through them for a few more hours, maybe longer." he explained. Giving it one more attempt, he told Jackson as he stepped in to the office "He should be in the hospital."

Reid's eyes went big. "I don't want to go back there!" he exclaimed.

"You've already seen how secure the hospital is." the Sheriff spoke up. He eyed the young agent. "I know he's not in the best shape. I assure you, Agent, we will take special care of him."

Reid frowned. "What do you mean?" he wanted to know. He tilted his head to one side. "Do I know you?" he asked.

Sheriff Jackson smiled. He took a step toward him, holding his hand out.

Reid stepped back sharply.

J.J. quickly stepped forward, protectively.

"J.J." Hotch called to her, shaking his head.

Frustrated, feeling overwhelmingly helpless, she crossed her arms over her chest and looked away.

"Agent Reid," Sheriff Jackson started after a glance at J.J., assuring that she would not interfere, "I understand that you are confused and frighten. I do not want to make this any harder on either you or your coworkers."

"Wonderful job." Gideon growled, pushing pass and coming to stand in front of his young friend.

"Gideon?" Reid asked.

Gideon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. Making sure that he kept eye contact, he began to explain "A woman, Sarah Dommas, was murdered not far from where you were found. Your fingerprints were on the weapon found near her body. Your hand prints were found in her home."

Reid blinked up at him. "Did… did I kill her?" he whispered.

Gideon stopped. He hadn't expected that question. He was sure that, somewhere, deep down, even if he couldn't remember, Reid would know himself, would know that he could not kill…

But everyone had it in them to kill. Given the right circumstances, the right pushing and prodding, the right motivation… it was not in the realm of impossible…

…yet Spencer Reid…

Gideon shook his head. "No, you didn't." he assured.

Reid's eyes narrowed. "You don't know that." he said, his tone void of emotion, as if they were talking about some unsub on the other side of the planet and not about himself. "The evidence, thus far, supports the theory that I am the unsub. And there is nothing I can offer in my defense, because I can't remember anything." He paused to think. "Perhaps I don't remember because I don't want to." he suggested. "If I did something horrible then I do not think I'd want to remember."

Gideon didn't know what to say. Reid was in his all too familiar logic mode. He didn't understand the "Just because!" argument when he was at 100. How was he going to understand it now? Understand that there was no way in hell the Spencer Reid, his apprentice,his agent, his friend, could murder anyone!

Sheriff Jackson stepped forward again, coming to stand beside Gideon. "Agent Spencer Reid…"

"Dr. Reid." Gideon corrected simply because it was the only defense he had left for him.

Jackson kept his focus on the boy, but made the correction. "Dr. Spencer Reid, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say…"

"Can and will be held against you in a court of law." Reid continued. "I have the right to an attorney. If I can not afford one, one will be appointed to me."

Jackson smiled slightly. "Do you understand these rights?"

Reid nodded.

"Smart boy. Then we should be going." Jackson reached for him.

The agent's reaction was instant, twisting away and snapping "Don't touch me!"

Jackson's reaction was just as instant, one hand reaching back for his cuffs, the other making another grab.

"Sheriff!" Hotch snapped the one word, an order for the man to stop.

"Calm down, Reid." Gideon quickly instructed, holding his hands out to him as he backed away. "No one is going to hurt you. I promise. I'll be there every step…"

"I will be." Hotch corrected. When Gideon looked back at him, he told the man "You need to stay here and question our mystery woman. I will go with Reid." He stopped before letting him know that he just didn't trust Gideon right about now.

Gideon hesitated, but Jackson did not.

"You are his supervisor thus, in his present state, his guardian." he said to Hotch. "I can not stop you from being present. But Agent Gideon, I would appreciate all the help you can give us on this case. Find out what the woman knows, what the crime scene tells you. Particularly if it points us in some other direction… any other direction… than a fellow officer of the law."

Reid's eyes narrowed as he eyed the Sheriff. "Why did you say that?" he wanted to know.

Jackson looked at him and smiled gently. "I don't really like arresting cops."

But Reid shook his head. "Why did you say thus'? It doesn't fit your speech pattern." he pointed out.

The Sheriff frowned, turning questioning eyes to Hotch.

Gideon's head tilted to one side, a curios smile coming to his lips. "Indeed." he mumbled. Taking a deep breath, he carefully reached out and set a gentle hand on Reid's shoulder. "Go with Agent Hotchner. He will call me if you need me." he assured.

Reid blinked up at him, then glanced at Hotch. Slowly, he wrapped his arms around himself and started for the door, careful not to touch anyone on his way.

Sheriff Jackson paused just long enough to glance at J.J. then Gideon, promising them both "I'll take good care of him. No worries." Then he and Hotch followed Reid out of the office.


	8. Eight

Once the wife of a powerful senator, she had been the social queen bee, the philanthropist of every good will organization with an upper class dress code. She was the hostess of celebrity balls, the tour guide for the rich and famous to the African needy, benefactor of Iraq adolescent heart patients… and the retirement of her husband didn't slow her down one breath.

Sarah Dommas had been discarded on the pile of empty soil bags and foam flower pots in the corner of the garden house as if she was simply no longer of any use.

Morgan crouched down at the foot of the crime scene, resting his arms on his knees. "I don't get it." he mumbled.

The body had already been removed, but the photos supplied by the CSI filled in the blanks.

"Which part?" Elle wanted to know as she paced the room behind him, flipping through the pictures. "The part where Reid doesn't remember anything? Where half the world seems to be hunting Reid down? Where he's accused of murder? Where we let some nobody sheriff drag him away in cuffs? Where Reid's fingerprints are all over this place?"

Morgan looked back and up at her. He waved a hand at the garden house. "Let's try and focus here, huh?" he suggested.

Elle paused, sending him a glare. But then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Yea." She snapped the pictures against her hand and turned back to the matter before them. She looked around the garden house before observing "She wasn't killed here. And she wasn't killed at the house where her blood was so nicely displayed." Again she snapped the pictures against her hand. "Where the hell did she die?"

"Where ever it was must be wall to wall blood." observed the sheriff deputy standing near by, their escort through the crime scene. He waved a hand at where the body had been. "I mean, jeez, she'd been stabbed somethin' like fifteen times! Your boy must'a gone postal on her. You think it was the drugs? You know, not his fault 'cause the drugs made him crazy or something'?"

Through clenched teeth Elle ground out "I'm getting real tired of saying it."

But Morgan interrupted, choosing to stay on topic. "Let me see the body shot." He rose up as she quickly produce the right picture. Taking an extra look at the photograph, he turned it to show Elle what he saw. "The cuts… they're not panicked, not rushed." He gave her a moment to get a good look before concluding "This wasn't an out of control, hyped up attack. This was a precise attack that took time and know how."

"And your little wonder boy… bet he has the know how!" the deputy tossed in, only to be ignored.

Elle leaned in to take a good look at the body. She flipped through the pictures to find a few other body shots from different angles. "She isn't splattered. Wasn't as if someone took time out of their busy day to clean her up and just toss her here on garbage heap. For some reason she didn't fight the attack." She paused. "A powerful, out spoken woman, used to getting what she wants when she wants it how she wants it…. She would have fought like hell. But, if she had, the cuts wouldn't be so clean, so smooth. There would be defensive wounds, bruises, some sign of a fight."

Morgan nodded slightly. "She didn't fight back."

She moved around the room again, watching as if she could see the unsub carry the body in and just drop her. "They didn't care about her. She was a thing, a tool that had served its purpose and was tossed away." Elle paused and frowned, her gaze drifting down to the pile of trash, her eyes seeing what wasn't there. "What sort of purpose did she have?"

"Dying." Morgan answered, his voice low, far off, coming from deep within his own line of thought.

Elle glanced at him, but it was agreement, not a question. "She wasn't the ends. She was the means."

"Why did they just now find the body?" was Morgan's question. He looked back at her. "You were at the main house, what, three, four hours ago? We're twenty yards from the blood pool. Any good cop would have searched every building immediately. Hell, a bad cop would have. Why did it take so long to find her?"

Elle crouched down beside him. "Look at the body shots again." she quickly said. "Lets play CSI for a moment. It's pretty warm in here, right?"

Morgan shrugged. "A garden house. A green house. They tend to be warm."

"And Reid's been in somebody's custody for…"

Morgan glanced at his watch. "Little over fifteen hours."

Elle tilted her head to one side. "If Reid did this, why isn't the body more… icky?" she wondered.

Her partner smirked. "Icky?" he repeated. "Is that official CSI lingo?"

Her response was to hit him in the arm with the pictures, before standing up again. "Reid didn't… he couldn't have done this. He was with us when she was placed here." She shook her head. "It's a frame up! Who the hell would frame Reid?" she demanded angrily.

Morgan also rose up. "Piss poor frame up." he observed. "Took us ten minutes. CSI probably already have time of death on paper and filed. They'll have Reid cleared before they get him to Jackson's office."

Elle shrugged. "So why are we here? Hotch really didn't think we'd behave while they cuffed and hauled Reid away?"

Morgan smiled at that, amused that Hotch might think his team would lose control. But then his amusement faded.

That wasn't like Hotch. The man trusted his team. They'd been in the most impossible, mind bending situations and had never lost control. With Reid at stake… Hotchner knew his team would never brake.

He shook his head. "It isn't about us." he mumbled. "What happened?" he wondered

"The question of the day." Elle grumbled.

"No." Morgan hurriedly said. "I mean as a result of this particular part. What does the unsub get out of us being here now? Why drop the body now?"

Elle looked out the window at the deputies and investigators wandering around the grounds, still looking for the missing Senator Dommas. "How did the unsub get the body here? Through all those cops?" Her eyes narrowed. "Unless it was a cop who put it here." she mumbled almost to herself.

Morgan glanced at her sharply. "A cop? A sheriff deputy?" He wanted to be clear about what she was suggesting.

Elle looked at him. "They were here long before anyone else. Jackson has a particular interest in getting Reid away from us…"

"Hey, now!" the deputy protested, shoving a finger in her direction. "That's uncalled for!"

Morgan looked at the man. "Who found the body?" he wanted to know.

But the deputy shook his head. "You're not gonna shift the blame on one of our guys, buddy! Just to save your own little monkey, not a chance in hell!" he snapped.

"Who!" Elle snapped.

The man threw them each a glare before admitting "We got a tip… a call." He shook his head. "Don't know who the caller was. It was anonymous."

"Why wasn't this area checked already?" Elle demanded.

"It was!" the deputy snapped, before he stopped himself. Frowning, he dropped his eyes.

The agents could see the man's mind working franticly as he made his own realization, his own thoughts connecting dots that he had been sure a moment ago would not have connected.

Tone gentler, yet still challenging, Morgan asked "By who?"

The deputy looked up again. After a quick glance at Elle, he turned to face Morgan square on. "Sheriff Jackson and Deputy Hawkins…. sir." After another quick glance at Elle, he added "But they're good men! They wouldn't have done… He's the Sheriff for crying out loud!" But there was hesitation in his voice now, as if he now had his doubts.

Elle and Morgan exchanged glances then, both headed for the door.

Sheriff Jackson glanced back, offering a reassuring smile to Agent Reid. He paused to look at the young man and his protector for a moment.

Hotch kept his agent close under his protective wing… not too close as to risk touching and spooking the boy, yet close enough to make sure that if something, anything, did spook him…

Jackson's smile took on a slight edge, and he quickly turned his head away. "And here we are." he announced, holding up his key chain and beeping the alarm off.

A gray hummer flashed its lights in response.

Jackson opened the back door, stepping aside to allow the FBI agents access to his vehicle.

Reid stopped so suddenly Hotch was forced to side step to avoid running into him. The young agent's eyes narrowed as he stared at the back seat of the hummer.

Frowning, Hotch looked down at his young agent. He glanced at the seat to make sure it was nothing more than a back seat, before turning back and asking "Reid?"

But Reid's attention remained on the hummer. Biting his lip, he tilted his head to one side.

"Everything alright, Dr, Reid?" Jackson questioned. He let his hand slide down the edge of the door, moving just enough that he could make a grab for the boy if he had to.

Reid's eyes shifted just enough to take in the sheriff. He blinked before observing "You didn't change vehicles."

Jackson smiled slightly. "I didn't." he admitted. He shook a finger at the agent. "Those braniac genes of yours are starting to kick in again, aren't they? You're remembering."

Hotch frowned. "Remembering what?" he wanted to know.

Reid stepped back.

"Don't do that." Jackson warned. "You wouldn't want Agent Hotchner here to get hurt 'cause you didn't cooperate now, would you?" He smiled a friendly, welcoming expression.

As if a demonstration of his implied threat, an unmistakable click drew their attention to a man stepping out from behind a parked car. In his hands was a small submachine gun, held lightly and at the ready. Though the weapon wasn't pointed at them yet, neither agent doubted that in a breath it could be.

Reid's eyes snapped up to the agent at his side.

Hotch's expression was blank, his eyes locked on the Sheriff, his hand only inches from his own weapon on his belt. "Reid, go back inside." he ordered, his voice low, his words spoke with care and intent.

Jackson continued to smile as he explained "You make this difficult, Dr. Reid, and Agent Hotchner will be the one to pay." He tilted his head to one side. "You might not remember what he means to you, but you know… You know that you can't let him be hurt because of you."

Hotch reached out, took Reid by the shoulder, and started to pull him behind him.

"Hotch…" Reid hissed a warning.

The agent froze, though he didn't need to look to know that the submachine gun was now aimed at him. His eyes remained on Jackson. "You are in the parking garage of the Federal Bureau of Investigations, threatening two F.B.I. Agents. Do you really think you have a chance…"

Jackson spread his hands, his smile growing even wider. "Agent Hotchner, with all your schooling and smarts and high and mighty muck…" He spun in a circle as he talked, waving a hand in the air. "With every great and powerful agent of the mighty F.B.I. alerted to their poor, little Reid's hardships, with your best and brightest standing watch…" He paused until he was facing the man again. "I still walked out the front door with my prize in hand." He shook his head. "And you are supposedly the great brainiacs of America's law enforcement."

The gunman chuckled at that.

Hotchner's eyes shifted just enough to take in the gunman, before returning to Jackson. For only a breath he wondered if he could draw and shoot the man before he fired. But he knew better. His hand would never land on his gun before the submachine gun began to kick. His only hope was that someone would come, that someone would see or hear or otherwise become aware of what was happening. If he could just keeping Jackson talking long enough…

"What do you want from me?" Reid suddenly snapped, stepping pass the lead agent. One hand went to his head as his own voice boomed in his ears. The other balled up into a small fist, his anger digging his nails into the palm of his hand.

"Reid…" Hotch hissed. Again he glanced at the gunman.

Equally startled by the young doctor's sudden move, the weapon had left Hotch and now followed Reid.

"Why did you do this to me?" Reid demanded. He shook his head. "It was you! It was you all along!" he accused. "You in the car, talking to the Senator. You called us brainiacs then too."

Jackson sighed, his smile fading. "This is tiresome." he complained to no one in particular.

But Reid waved a hand at him as he took another step toward him.. "Tiresome? Another word too big, too… sophisticated to fit into your usual speech pattern. You should be saying fed up or boring… " He shrugged. "Who are you trying to impress, Jackson? Why is it so important to you that we think you're smarter than you really are?" He grimaced at the man as he wondered "Are you really so insecure in your stupidity that you need to let everyone know just how in depth your idiocy goes?"

Jackson's fist snapped out slamming into Reid's jaw, dropping the boy to the ground.

Hotch moved, spinning about, drawing his gun and firing from the hip.

Catching the movement out of the corner of his eye, the gunman started to turn, refocusing his aim from Reid to Hotchner. But Hotch's bullet punched into his stomach, slamming him back against a car.

The car alarm began to blare, echoing throughout the garage.

Grinding his teeth, the gunman braced himself against the car and tried bringing his gun up again.

"Don't do it!" Hotch snapped. He hoped, but knew better. Bring his gun up, clutched in both hands, he fired again.

The second bullet caught the gunman in the chest, slamming him back again. This time the gunman dropped his weapon, sliding down the side of the car until he dropped to the ground.

Satisfied he was no longer a threat, Hotch turned to find Jackson.

"Hotch!" Reid yelled

Jackson was waiting for him, standing just behind where Reid sat on the ground, his own weapon out and aimed at Hotchner. He fired first.

Hot lead struck Hotch in the forearm, spinning him about. His gun hit the ground with a loud clank as he stumbled back against a cement ceiling column.

"No!" Reid cried. His hands cupped over his ears, trying to protect his pounding head from the gunfire that echoed through the garage. He tried to scramble to his feet, but Jackson shoved him back down again as he hurried pass.

Jackson rushed on the injured Hotchner, kicking the fallen weapon away and taking up a stance over him, his gun leveled with the agent's head.

Grinding his teeth against the searing pain in his arm, Hotch stared up at the Sheriff. The hand of his good arm pressed on the bullet hole, blood flowing through your fingers. Still, wounded, bleeding, unarmed, he tried to find a way to save his man. "Even if you out smarted us… how long before the C.I.A. catches up with you?" He paused, his eyes closing momentarily as he swallowed hard against the pain. Then he looked up again, his eyes clear, his jaw ridged. "C.I.A. will not allow a rouge unit loose for long."

Sheriff Jackson smiled his ever friendly smile. "Agent Hotchner, I have beaten them. I have beaten you. And that little code breaker…" He tilted his head back to where Reid sat looking on with big eyes. "He's gonna deliver me my winnings."

Hotch allowed himself a glance at his young agent.

Reid had reached up, grabbed the open door of the hummer, and was dragging himself to his feet. His jaw was red from the hit and his knees wobbled. There were tears in his eyes and he winced with every sound. Still he fought his way to his feet.

Jackson sighed. He straightened his arm, finger on the trigger. "Alas, Agent Hotchner, at this time you are more burden than asset."

"Don't." Reid growled. "You kill him and I won't help you!" he swore.

The Sheriff paused. His smile wavered slightly. "Dr. Reid, what makes you think you have a choice?"

He closed his eyes against the flashes of memory. Then they snapped open filled with hate and anger. "Because… you're not as smart as I am."

Jackson jaw stiffened. But, after a moment, he forced a smile. "Well, what do you know, Agent Hotchner, seems it's your lucky day."

0oo0o0o0

She sat quietly, relaxed. Her hands clasped before her on the table, seemingly unaware of the cuffs around her wrists. Her smile was comfortable, as if it was her everyday expression for everyday life and not something she just wore out for F.B.I. interrogations. It was a completely at ease expression that revealed absolutely nothing.

Gideon studied her from the other side of the table with the same, well practiced, everyone's favorite distracted professor look he was famous for. He tilted his head from one side to the other on occasion as his silent observations were placed in the proper slot in his head. He was putting her together in his head, developing a profile.

"I win." she suddenly spoke up.

His eyebrows rose.

She smiled. "You blinked first."

Gideon smiled back. With a slight bob of his head, he allowed her the win.

The woman leaned back in her chair, her smile never wavering. "Special Agent Dr. Jason Gideon." Her tone was awed, as if she had been looking forward to meeting the man himself.

"Abby." Gideon answered. But then he frowned. "Or would you prefer Elle?"

She chuckled. "I hear the latter's already claimed." She glanced at the one way observation mirror. "So, how is little J.J.? Her feathers still ruffled over our little tiff?" She leaned forward again. "You know, it isn't often that I underestimate someone. Can't remember the last time I was taken by surprise." She smiled. "Kinda nice."

"Indeed?" Gideon asked. Not that he was really asking. He already knew that she, a highly intelligent, multi talented woman never quite as happy as when she's challenged. The question was what challenged her.

Abby turned a raised eyebrow at the man. "Indeed. And the great mind of Jason Gideon doesn't prefer the unknown to the knowing it all?" She tilted her head, waiting for an answer.

The agent offered her a crooked smile, but, otherwise, didn't answer.

After a moment of waiting, Abby leaned back in her chair again. She glanced about the dull, plain room. "So, we going to get the official crap out of the way? Or we going to just sit here and profile each other?"

Again Gideon smiled. He couldn't help but think, if the circumstances were different, he might actually enjoy sitting here and exchanging banter with the woman. She was smart, quick, observant… she would have made a good BAU agent.

Deciding he had learned all he was going to learn by simply watching her, he leaned back in his own seat, crossing his arms over his chest, he asked "How do you know Dr. Reid?"

The woman's smile was so expertly displayed that a lesser profiler might have missed the ever slightest flinch.

Gideon did not miss it.

Abby laid her hands flat on the table, palms down. "Little Spencer?" She shrugged. "Kid and I go way back. You should ask him about us." Her eyes narrowed slightly as they watched the agent for a reaction.

Gideon smiled again, but this time it was not in amusement nor appreciation. "I did ask Dr. Reid about you." His head tilted slightly. "He doesn't remember you. In fact, he's afraid of you."

Her jaw tightened, but her expression remained the same. "Indeed?" she mimicked. "Now that just hurts my feelings. I mean, after all I've gone through for the little bugger…"

"Bugger?" Gideon suddenly straightened up, his eyes narrowing.

Bugger? He knew someone once who used that term.

Abby shrugged. "Why do you always introduce him as Dr' Reid and not Agent Reid or just Reid or plain old Spencer?" she wondered. "You think you're protecting him from folks walking all over him, but aren't you really just keeping him weak?"

The profiler paused his own thoughts at that. "Weak?" he repeated.

The woman leaned forward. "You think he doesn't already know how different he is? You think you have to throw it out before him like some cattle catcher, clearing his path? Like how folks step out of the way of a man with a white cane? Or open doors for someone in a wheel chair?" She let her eyes drop, shaking her head as if she was disappointed in the man. "No matter where he goes or what he does, you throw that doctor out like calling to the room Hey! Look out! Pay attention! Poor boy's special!'" She shrugged. "What's the matter, Jason? Don't you think he's capable of impressing people all on his own? Do you really think that, just because he's young, he needs you to announce him? To protect him? Ready the room for him? Why do you need to broadcast his presence? You walk before him, ringing his bell, sweeping away obstacles that might, just maybe, tax him a little." Abby straightened, letting her eyes roam over the Agent before her with a disappointed look. "Do you really have such little faith in the amazing Spenser Reid? Do you really feel he can't stand up for himself? That he can't fight his own battles? Do you think so little of him that you won't let him stand on his own?"

Gideon blinked. How curious. She was poking him with a verbal stick, trying to provoke him, put him off his game. Why?

He watched her for a moment, before asking "Is that what Dommas wanted? For Reid to face him alone?"

Again there was a barely noticeable flinch. "Should ask the man yourself." she suggested.

"Thought I was… in the round about way." Gideon rose to his feet and began to walk around the room. "You are agency trained, but not agency. You wouldn't work well with a team."

"Yea, well, there was that pee-wee football incident." Abby chuckled.

Gideon leaned back against the wall and crossed his arms over his chest to continue. "When the Senator left the CIA he created his own personal security unit. Individuals hand picked from the earliest possible age, trained in counter intelligence as well as anything and everything that might be needed to protect our country if the rest of us failed to do so…. Or betrayed it ourselves."

"Don't you mean when?" Abby injected, her arrogant smile gone.

Gideon continued with only a slight pause to consider her comment. "Dommas trained his people in his own image. So closely, so intently, so loyal that they have been known to even pick up his speech patterns."

Abby's eyes widen, then she suddenly laughed. "Of course. What a stupid mistake!" She bobbed her head to the side, asking "Bugger?"

Gideon shrugged. "What does Dommas want with Reid?"

Abby sighed. "You know who I am, what I am. Agent Gideon, do you really think I'm going to just up and tell you whatever it is you want to know?" She chuckled again. "You get the feeling that we're just fencing here?"

The Agent pushed away from the wall and walked back to the table. "Did you receive your orders before or after Sarah Dommas was murdered?"

Abby's smile vanished. When she spoke, her voice was void of emotion. "Murdered? How? When?"

Gideon tilted his head to one side, watching her closely. "The popular theory is that, in drug induced rage, Reid attacked and killed her."

Her eyes dropped, darting back and forth as if searching the table top for answers. Her fingers curled up in tight fists.

Gideon slowly eased himself down in his chair again. Speaking carefully and clearly, he told her "They claim that he repeatedly stabbed her, leaving a large puddle of blood in the entrance of the Dommas' home. Leaving bloody hand and feet prints, he moved around the room in a drugged haze. He must have cleaned up before he carried the body out to the garden house, because there was no evidence that he had ever been out there." He shrugged. "No evidence, but circumstances, apparently, is enough to arrest him and take him into custody."

Abby's head snapped up. "Into custody?" she growled. "You arrested that kid?" Her question was almost hopeful.

But Gideon shook his head. "Sheriff Jackson took him in for questioning…"

Suddenly Abby launched to her feet, sending her chair skidding back. "You let that traitor bastard take him?" In very uncharactistic rage, she snapped "Son of a bitch! You idiot! Don't you know who the bad guys are here?!"

Gideon actually smiled. "Well, we're pretty sure it is either the man who flashed the badge and cooperated with us in every way, giving us free access to his investigation even though he didn't need to… or the woman who lied and manipulated, attacked us and attempted to kidnap Reid." He locked eyes with her. "Unless you can convince us otherwise, you do make the more likely unsub."

Abby bent over the table until she was only inches from Gideon. "Since when has the most likely ever been the real unsub?" she hissed at him.


	9. Nine

No.

No!

No, no, no, nononononononono….

Gideon squeezed his eyes closed, silently commanding his heart to slow down. He couldn't lose it now. He couldn't let guilt and worry cloud things up. He had to think. He had to figure this out.

He had had a feeling about the sheriff. Why didn't he act on it? He knew he wasn't who he said he was. But he allowed himself to be distracted.

"Gideon!"

His eyes opened, though he didn't look up. Even when his eyes were closed, he couldn't turn away from the blood on the floor of the garage.

Who was it?

Young, innocent Spencer Reid with so much potential, mind so amazing, heart so open and trusting, so much life ahead of him…

Or always strong Aaron Hotchner with a brand new baby boy and loving wife, a long and, no doubt, heroic future in the FBI, intelligent, insightful…

"Gideon, what happened?" Derek demanded, coming to stand over the man. Elle was a step behind him.

Gideon turned to look at him. "Stupidity." he answered.

Derek frowned. "What?"

"This shouldn't have happened." Gideon went on, turning back to the blood. "He felt safe with us. With me. I told him we would protect him. That he could trust us." Again his eyes closed. "And I let him walk right out the door with him."

Derek's eyes narrowed. "Sheriff Jackson took him." he concluded. With a growl, he spun away, kicking at the ground. "Son of a bitch." he snapped.

"Derek." Elle whispered, laying a hand on his arm. When he glanced down at her, she nodded to the blood Gideon was crouched over. "Who was hurt?"

Gideon glanced sharply up at her. Then his eyes shifted to look pass her. Rising up, he stepped pass Elle as J.J. crossed the garage toward them. "Who was it?" he asked softly.

J.J. licked her lips. Glancing around the garage, she once again took in the sights.

Dead man. Blood pools. A fallen gun.

How could this happen here? To them? Agents of the FBI!

Sure, in the field something like this was always possible. They were prepared for that.

But here? In the garage of the FBI offices? Their offices? Their home? Their safe place?

If an FBI Agent wasn't safe in their own office, how could anyone be safe anywhere?

"J.J.?" Derek encouraged, leaning just close enough that his shoulder brushed against her's, offering what little emotional strength he had to offer.

Her eyes snapped up to meet his strong, reassuring eyes. Again she licked her lips, before turning her attention back to Gideon. "Yea… yes, sir. There was some sort of delay on the security signal. That's why help didn't get down here sooner. Garcia thinks it could be some sort of electronic scrambler. She's working on it now." She took a deep breath, forcing herself not to look at the blood… again. "It was Agent Hotchner, sir. Sheriff Jackson shot Hotch."

Gideon's eyes closed again.

No, no, no, no, no, no…..

Shaking his head angrily, he ordered "Morgan, interrogate the deputies." He walked back towards the entrance, calling over his shoulder as what was left of his team fell in step behind him. "Elle, help Garcia. J.J. with me."

"Where are we going?" J.J. wanted to know.

"I'm going to get some straight answers for once."

Hotch stumbled forward, loosing his balance. He tried to twist, tried to protect his already bruised and damaged body. But he slammed into the metal table with bone jarring force. The world faded, blackness being a blessed relief from the agony that rippled through his body.  
"Stop it!" Reid cried, rushing forward, putting himself between Hotch and their kidnapper. "You don't need to hurt him!"

Like the single star in the dark night, Reid's voice cut through the blackness, reaching Hotchner. Grinding his teeth, he forced his eyes open again. "Reid…" he gasped.

But his young agent's back was to him as he faced off with Jackson.

Jackson stepped into the room, chuckling. "What are you going to do?" he wanted to know, spreading his arms wide, as if welcoming Reid to take a swing. "Stop me?"

Reid tilted his head to one side. "Stop you?" His eye brows raised. "Thought you were at least smart enough not to kill the only reason I'm going to do anything for you." He shrugged. "Are you really so stupid that…"

Jackson's fist snapped out, striking Reid in the jaw and slamming him back against Hotch.

Hotchner bit back a cry as he was, once again, slammed into the table. Blindly, he snatched at the edge to keep from falling.

Dazed and hurt himself, Reid's hands cradled his jaw. He took a stumbling step away from his teammate and started to turn as if to check on the damage.

But Jackson grabbed his shirt front and jerked him around to face him again. "He ain't dead yet, boy." he hissed. "That can change in a heartbeat." He threw him back, taking care to aim him at Hotch again.

Reid threw his hand back, catching himself before he hit the wounded Agent.

The Sheriff jabbed a finger at him. "All depends on just how good of a nature you keep me in." he warned. Then he spun about and stomped out of the room, slamming the heavy metal door behind him. An ominous thunk sounded a bolt being slid into place.

For a moment the two agents leaned against the table, breathing hard, trying to out last the pain.

Finally, rubbing his jaw one more time, Reid pushed away from the table and took Hotch's good arm. "Agent Hotchner, are you alright?" he asked.

Hotch looked at him. He breathed in deep and let it out slowly, trying to decide if the kid was stable enough to handle the truth.

But, before he could come to a decision, Reid spun away from him. "Of course not!" He waved his hands in the air as he began to walk the room. "You've been shot! He shot you! Shot you because of me! Son of a…"

"Reid!" Hotch snapped.

Reid's head snapped about, looking over his shoulder, his wide eyes locking on the older man.

Not taking any time to think this time, Aaron Hotchner told him "I'm alright."

Reid blinked at him, but, otherwise, didn't move.

Hotch's eyes narrowed.

He had been tempted many times to profile Reid, but always turned away just short. It was his rule: don't profile your team; don't profile your friends; don't profile your family.

Now that he stood here, wounded, bleeding, his life depending on what they did next, he wondered about that rule. He almost felt unarmed, naked even, without a profile of his own agent in his hands.

Not that it would have done him any good. The kid was so twisted around, still coming down from the drugs, scared, confused, picking fights with the unsub…

Hotchner paused. "Why did you pick a fight?" he wondered aloud.

Again Reid blinked at him.

Holding his breath, Hotch adjusted his wounded shoulder until he was cradling his arm against his chest. Streaks of pain ran down his arm, across his chest and back, forcing him to gasp. It took every ounce of strength he had not to double over.

Focus! His mind snapped at his body.

Think.

Stay in control.

Have to stay focus!

"Reid, you don't pick fights. You don't do that." he started, forcing his words out through a clenched jaw. "You know the unsub. You've profiled him. You know his triggers." He paused to catch his breath. "Why are you picky a fight with him?"

The agent blinked at him yet again. Slowly he turned and began to aimlessly wander the room. His hand reached out, fingers just barely brushing this and that.

It was a cold room, most everything a cold, stainless steel. The walls and high ceiling were a smooth, hospital white. The floor a clean, polished vinyl. A steel desk in the corner with a water pitcher and glass. On the wall next to that was a one way mirror, looking in. The door was in the corner on the other side of the mirror. On the opposite side was a porcelain sink sitting on a metal cabinet, and a Bio-waste can hanging from the wall. Beside the can was a wire basket that held a box of latex gloves. On the other side of the sink was a tall, metal cabinet. In the middle of the room was a stainless steel table, shaped like a cross.

Frowning, Hotch watched him. He could see his mind work, putting pieces together. Like when he looked at the Crime Board, making connections, puzzling together the dark secrets of an unsub's mind, creating a scene, a profile.

"Reid?" Hotch called to him, wanting to know… needing to know what he saw.

Reid's head snapped about. "You're bleeding." he said in that off handed tone he used when he knew something no one else even thought about knowing. Suddenly he was moving across the room, pass Hotch, and to the cabinet beside the sink. Opening the door, he went straight to the shelf he wanted as if he had done it before, and retrieved a package of gauze. Then he returned to the older agent. "Take your shirt off."

With his good hand, Hotchner reached up and worked the buttons of his shirt. "You've been here before." he said.

Reid didn't answer as he helped ease the shirt down Hotch's shoulders.

Hotch hissed when the material was peeled away from the bullet hole. He had to bite back a cry when his agent pressed a bandage to the wound.

"Sorry." Reid mumbled.

Blinking away tears, Hotch took a moment to regain his composure. Licking his lips, he said again "You've been here before." When he didn't get a response, he reached out with his good hand and touched Reid's wrist.

"No! Don't do that!" Reid snapped, leaping back. Spinning away, he crossed his wrists over his chest and shook his head.

"Reid!" Hotch called after him. He tried to take a step after him, but his shoulder screamed at being moved any more than it had been. Falling back against the table, he ground out through clenched teeth "Damn it."

The young agent was spinning about, his eyes scanning the room again. "No, no, no…" he whispered in a panic. "We need to leave. We need to get out of here.

Taking a deep breath, Hotch tried again. "Reid?" he called softly.

No response.

Hotchner licked his lips. "Spencer."

Reid stopped spinning, but he didn't look at him.

"Spencer," Hotch started again, "you've been here before."

"Yes!" he yelled at him.

An answer.

Hotch finally got an answer. A one syllable answer, but an answer none the less. The door had opened.

"What happened?" the lead agent asked, pushing for another answer. Keep the kid talking, keep him focused, keep him moving and thinking and working towards the next answer. "What did you see here?"

Reid's tilted his head slightly, listening to Hotch's voice. "They… they hurt her. Killed her… But he wouldn't give it to them."

Hotchner closed his eyes. "Sarah Dommas." he guessed.

He was almost relieved. Reid said they.' They' killed her. Not him. He didn't do it.

But he had seen it. He had been here. Gentle, analytical Spencer Reid had been forced to watch a woman being murdered. That alone would have screwed anyone up.

But how did Reid get from here to thrown out of a car, drugged and abused.

"He wouldn't help them." Reid continued, suddenly very calm. "They killed her. He begged them to stop. He cried. But he wouldn't help them." He finally turned his head to look at Hotch. "They thought I would."

"What do they want?"

His chin trembled, but he quickly clenched his jaw and looked away.

Hotch shook his head. "The Alpha/Omega File." he breathed. "Dommas was protecting the file. Something he thought was worth his life… worth his wife's life. But why send it to you? Why get you involved?"

A clank sounded the bolt being released on the door.

"Reid, come here!" Hotch ordered, though the younger agent was already backing up to his side.

Sheriff Jackson swung the door open and stepped in. "Agent Hotchner, Dr. Reid." he greeted with a smile, almost as if he was meeting them in a coffee shop for pie. But then he stepped aside. "I believe you both know Dr. Wesslim."

The woman walked into the room carrying a small case.

Reid's eyes went big and he wrapped his arms around himself tightly.

"Agent Hotchner." the doctor greeted him. "If you will please sit on the table, we'll get started."

Abby leaped to her feet, thrusting her seat back. "You let that bastard take him? What kind of fool are you?" she roared. "You're supposed to the brainacs of the FBI! You're supposed to be better than this. For crying out loud, he's one of your own!"  
"Abby." Gideon said, his tone calm and steady. "Sit down." He raised his hand, stilling the agents who were closing in on the upset prisoner.

Taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly, Abby calmed herself. "You should have let me take him." she grumbled. Turning she quickly located her seat. Using the toe of her boot, she dragged it back and sank down. "You're chasing the wrong horse, Jason." She smirked. "The Senator always said you were a smart man. Just off track."

Gideon glanced up as J.J. slipped in the door. There was a look on her face that he recognized at once. She needed to talk to him and now.

But Abby was talking and he didn't know how long that would last. So Gideon returned his attention to the prisoner. "Give me something better." he encouraged. "Tell me what is going on."

"Something better?" Abby huffed. She too glanced up at the intruder, but decided to ignore her. "You want me to tell you a funny story while Jackson drives off into the sunset with a genuine code breaker?" She straightened up, letting her cuffed hands hang in front of her. "Once upon a time there was a great man who fought for great things. He worked with others on a committee. This committee kept a file, encoded so no peeping eyes could use and abuse their secrets. But he was opposed by men who confused knowledge with wisdom. In their confusion, they dissolved the committee, and thrust this great man from their ranks. Knowing the dangers of this file in the wrong hands, this great man, in all his wisdom, took the file with him and kept it safe for many, many years."

"Someone found out about the file." Gideon concluded.

Abby nodded slightly. "And you just handed that someone a code breaker." she accused. She smacked the table. "It was my job to make sure Jackson didn't get his hands on that kid."

"By any means necessary." Gideon added.

Abby took a moment to answer, her eyes narrowing. "Yes."

"You drugged him."

Again her answer was short and simple. "Yes."

He understood. Really he did! Yet Gideon just couldn't help but be pissed off.

She did it! She drugged Reid! She screwed up his head! She!

He closed his eyes, needing a minute to regain control.

J.J. wasn't so understanding. "You drugged him?! That's how you protect him? Give him amnesia and dump him, lost and alone, in the woods?!"

"My job was to protect the file!" Abby snapped. "Not the kid." She turned her head to glare at the blond. "You should be grateful."

"Grateful?"

"Grateful." Gideon interrupted. He opened his eyes again, looking straight at Abby. "She could have killed him, absolutely and undeniably assuring that he could not be used to read the file. Instead she tried to erase his memory of the file."

Abby shrugged. "Which didn't work." she admitted. She frowned, genuinely confused. "Another unexpected event. It might have been the tranquilizers already in his system… but it shouldn't have…"

"He has autism." Gideon told her. "Katrine wouldn't have worked the same on him."

"Autism?" She tilted her head to one side. "That wasn't in his file."

"Not everything can be learned from a file." Gideon reminded her.

"Point." Abby allowed. Sighing and shaking her head, she said "So, you screwed up. Let me go and I'll fix it." She held her hands out.

"Fix it how?" J.J. wanted to know. "By finishing Reid off?"

The prisoner huffed. Tilting her head, looking up at her from the corner of her eye. "You want me to answer that?"

Gideon spoke, bringing their attention back to him. "Were you on Jackson's team? Or he on yours?"

Abby smiled. "Thought we agreed I wasn't a team player?" She chuckled. But then she shrugged. "Jackson is a traitor. A traitor to the Senator. A traitor to our country. As soon as the Senator began to suspect, he put me on him. But it was too late." She paused to lick her lips. "He had already stolen the file and was feeding it to a code breaker. Senator Dommas challenged him directly." She closed her eyes. "He should have waited for me." Abby shook her head. "Guess Jackson decided to skip the hassle of the code breaker and go straight for the source. I got there too late."

"He took Dommas." Gideon concluded. "Used his wife to make him talk."

Abby's voice growled in defense. "He would never betray his country. Not even to save his life. Not even to save Mrs. Dommas."

The profiler nodded. "So he needed the code breaker again. He needed Reid."

Abby nodded.

"Where did he take him?" Gideon wanted to know.

The woman smiled. She held her hands out again.

Gideon smiled back, but made no move to release the cuffs.

Abby sighed, dropping her hands again. Leaning forward, she asked "Hawkins, right? Means his pit bull, Franklin, too." She shrugged. "Let Franklin go."

J.J. crossed her arms over her chest. "Anyone else?" she wondered sarcastically.

Abby looked up at her again. "Your file didn't say anything about that temper of yours."

The agent shrugged. "Not everything can be learned from a file."

Abby laughed. She turned back to Gideon. "She is one surprise after another."

Gideon smacked his hand down on the table, making both women jump. "Two agents are missing. I want them back." he snapped.

All humor left the prisoner's expression. Licking her lips, she spoke carefully, her tone low and serious. "Franklin needs a leader. He's helpless without one. You keep Hawkins locked up and toss Franklin out on the street with the appropriate amount of scare, and he'll run straight for the next leader-like person he knows."

"Jackson." Gideon sighed, dropping his eyes. After a moment, he rose to his feet. "Let her go."

J.J. stared at him. "What?" she asked in disbelief.

Gideon looked at her. "Do it."


	10. Ten

Morgan slammed his fist down on the table. "He lied to you! He left you to take the heat!" he roared at the two men.  
Hawkins didn't even flinch, his relaxed smile never wavering. "We are deputies following orders within the focus of the law. We are not, in the least, responsible for the actions of the Sheriff nor the assumptions based on those actions."

Morgan rolled forward on his knuckles, leaning toward the deputy. "Do you know what happens to badge toters in prison?"

"We didn't do anything!" Franklin snapped, showing that he had much less self control than his partner.

Hawkins eyes flickered to him, but quickly returned to the agent in front of him. So quick, to the untrained eye, it never happened.

Morgan could have seen it a mile away.

Hawkins was worried about Franklin. Worried about his temper, his lack of control.

Franklin was a loose cannon. Quick to react, slow to think. Big, strong, and mean. A classic slow witted henchman. Left to his own, and he would probably already be serving a prison sentence for some sloppy murder from some drunken brawl over a spilt drink. He would never do anything productive if there hadn't been someone there to tell him what to do.

Hawkins, on the other hand, was cool headed, calculating, and cold hearted. He was a lieutenant, a strong second in command. Always second because he would never stand to be any lower in the food chain. Always second because he hadn't quite figured out how to knock off the top dog and take over the pack.

Not yet anyway.

Morgan didn't doubt that, if given the opportunity, he would kill Franklin as quick as he would cut off a rotting limb.

The question was did Franklin know.

Morgan let his eyes drift to the man in question.

Franklin glared back. "What? You got a problem?" he snarled.

Morgan shrugged. "I don't." He leaned back, letting a self satisfied smile. "You certainly do."

The man's eyes narrowed. "You ain't got nothing on me."

Hawkins sighed. "Franklin, he's baiting you. Just sit back and shut up." he ordered.

Franklin glanced at him and snapped his jaw shut.

"Yea, Franky, shut up." Morgan added. "Not like powerful, smart, high and mighty guys like Jackson's gonna let some small fry, bar bouncer like you get sent up the river for something he did. You're just too damn important to his plans."

"Damn straight!" Franklin snapped back.

Hawkins frowned.

The FBI profile barked out a laugh. "Yea, right. You even know what the plan is?"

"There is no plan." Hawkins quickly said before his partner could answer. "We were doing our job."

Morgan chuckled. "Yea, just a couple of sweet, innocent guys."

"Humph." Franklin huffed arrogantly.

The agent tilted his head. "What? You're not so innocent?" He leaned forward again. "Bull. You don't know nothing." he accused.

"You don't know shit!" Franklin roared.

"Shut up!" Hawkins snapped, finally looking away from Morgan and focusing on Franklin.

"I ain't sayin' nothing'!" Franklin snapped right back at him.

Hawkins glared at Franklin, but told Morgan "We want our lawyer."

Morgan rose to his feet. "Sure thing, Deputy Hawkins. You need one." He nodded to the agents waiting quietly in the corner. "Sweet, innocent Franklin, on the other hand…"

The agents hauled the man to his feet.

"Hey, what're you doin'?" Franklin demanded. "I want my lawyer too! Gimme a lawyer, man! I know my rights!"

Morgan waved a hand at him. "Go find yourself a lawyer." he told him.

Franklin frowned. "What?"

One of the agents released him from the cuffs. The other took him by the arm. "Come this way, sir. I'll take you to your car."

The deputy's nose scrunched up in confusion. He looked down at Hawkins, but Hawkins was watching Morgan again.

Morgan stepped over and opened the door. "Deputy Franklin, go away." He shook his head. "I don't have time to waste on you any more. Go. Leave. Bye-bye."

Franklin took a step toward the door. But he paused. "This some kind of trick?" he wanted to know, eyeing Morgan.

The agent shrugged. "You got something I need to trick out of you?"

"Just go." Hawkins growled. "You go home and stay there." he ordered "And don't talk to no one!"

"What 'bout you?" Franklin asked.

"For crying out loud, you stupid idiot." Hawkins snapped at him. "Do as you're told!"

Franklin balked, but managed to clamp his mouth shut before he exploded right back. Throwing a glare at each of the agents, he slammed his chair away and stomped out of the room.

Getting a nod from Morgan, the two agents quickly followed him out.

With a sigh, Morgan turned back to Hawkins.

Hawkins was watching him again, but his apparent anger was gone from his expression. "You think you're pretty smart, don't you?"

Morgan shrugged. "Have my moments."

Hawkins leaned forward. "You are so out of your league it's like watching a t-ball game at the Yankee Stadium."

A chuckle brought the men's attention to Abby who stood in the open door. "I wonder who's balls are gonna get batted around." she teased.

Hawkins' face lost all color. "Amanda." he said slowly, carefully, as if just saying her name would give away something.

Morgan tilted his head. He looked at the woman. "Amanda, now?"

Ignoring him, Abby smiled sweetly at Hawkins. "Tell me, Hawkins, how does it feel to betray the man who gave you everything?" she purred.

Hawkins tried to hide his struggle for control with a shrug. "Just going with the flow."

Abby lost her smile. Suddenly she looked very much the soldier in some secret war. "You betrayed Senator Dommas. You betrayed your country." she growled. "You will be judged by your peers, lined up, and shot for the traitor you are."

Hawkins' chin came up, his eyes harden, but he said nothing. Turning around again, he set his clasped hands on the table, and stared straight ahead. He had nothing more to say.

Morgan gave him one more look, then headed out the door, waving Abby out before him.

Gideon and J.J. were waiting for them outside.

"Anything?" Gideon asked.

Morgan shook his head. "Only thing he has left for us is name and rank."

"And even then he'll lie." Abby added, crossing her arms over her chest.

The lead agent nodded once. "Morgan, you and Elle stay with Franklin. J.J. work with Garcia. Any property… homes, family… somewhere where they can be alone. Somewhere not obvious."

J.J. nodded. "And condemned or confiscated properties they might have had access to through the sheriff department." she added before turning.

"Keep your search focused on neighborhoods where Franklin heads to or frequents." Abby called after.

J.J. paused to throw her a glare. "I know my job." she growled.

Abby smiled her sweetest. "'Course you do, sweety. Now, run along and play with your little friend." She waved a hand as if she was shoeing the agent away.

Gideon's hand snapped out, snatching Abby's wrist up, turning her away from his people. "That's enough." Gideon warned in a low, dangerous tone seldom heard by anyone, much less his team. Looking over her shoulder, he told the agents "Go."

Without further hesitation the two were off.

When they were alone, Abby stepped into Gideon's space, bumping against his chest. Batting her eyes up at him, she purred "So… you just wanna hold my hand forever?"

He gazed down at her. "I know who and what you are. And I know what you'll do to Reid the first chance you get." He shook his head. "I won't let you have that chance." he promised.

All pretending gone, Abby answered "I am a guardian of a country whose greatest defense is secrets. Dr Reid, as sweet as a kid as h is, is the greatest threat to that defense: he's a code breaker." She jerked her hand free and stepped back. "Do not interfere, Jason." she warned. "Incase you haven't noticed, you had only one agent in this. Now you have them all."

It was a cold metal table, hospital white. Along the edge was a silver gutter that fed down into a clear tube that lead into a drain below. Eight feet long from head to toe, a cross bar near to the top.  
It looked like a crucifix.

And his savior was laid out upon it.

Reid squeezed his eyes closed, trying to steal himself away, not wanting to see the reality before him. He wasn't here. This wasn't happening. He was safe. He was blissfully ignorant of the world, remembering nothing, not even himself.

He wasn't here again.

He wasn't watching this again.

He couldn't watch her die again.

Her?

He opened his eyes and looked again.

For a moment, a blink of an eye, a woman laid across the table, her wrists cut, her blood draining down the gutters, down the tube. Her life dripping away down the drain. Her soft blue eyes were filled with panic, but the rest of her expression looked weak, as if she didn't even have the energy left to make her eyes go wide. Her nearly white lips moved just slightly as if she was trying to whisper something.

Squeezing his eyes closed again, Reid shook his head, trying to shake loose from the image.

No, that wasn't right. It wasn't her. Not anymore. Not her.

It was Aaron Hotchner.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself to look again.

Hotch was there, strapped down on the cold, white metal… helpless, vulnerable… His shirt had been removed, his wound cleaned and bandaged. His eyes were barely visible through slitted lids. His breath was slow, even, far too calm.

They had drugged him, Reid remembered suddenly, as if making a discovery.

They thought it would make it all easier… like kicking the crutch out from under the crippled. They thought Reid would be helpless, vulnerable to their demands, without Hotch encouraging him, anchoring him.

Sheriff Jackson leaned over Reid's shoulder from behind and asked "So… how long does it take for a grown man to bleed out?"

The young agent looked up at him. "Three point six seconds with adequate vacuum" he mumbled as if reading it from a book.

Sheriff Jackson waved a hand at Dr. Wesslim, sending her to the head of the table. "Or longer if done with just the right precision. And our lovely Dr. Wesslim is a true master of just such precision."

She tilted her head, showing appreciation for the compliment as she prepared a long, thick syringe.

Jackson stepped away from the young FBI agent to set a laptop on the desk. Then he turned and asked "Do you know what she's doing?"

Reid closed his eyes.

The Sheriff smiled. Slowly walking around the room, he ordered the doctor in soft tones "Tell him."

Dr. Wesslim turned Hotch's head, exposing the main artery in his neck. Speaking as she worked, she explained "I am inserting an IV catheter in the subject's vein. This will allow the blood to drain as slow or as fast as I so deem."

Reid's eyes snapped open when he heard Hotch hiss as the needle was inserted.. "Leave her alone!" he snapped, taking a step toward the table.

But Jackson suddenly surged across the room, one hand snapping out and snatching him by the shirt collar. "Her! You remember!" he accused.

The agent glared up at him. "I remember that the first time you failed." Reid admitted. "You tortured Dommas' wife. And he never told you anything."

The sheriff shrugged. "He gave me you."

Reid held his head a little higher, forcing his jaw to stiffen. "What makes you think I will be different?"

Jackson dragged the smaller man closer, lowering his face until there was only a breath between their noses. "I knew Dommas. He taught me, trained me, made me. You… you are only a whisp of the man he was. A computer in boy form." He dropped Reid so he could wave a hand in the air. "Not that there's anything wrong with that. You're a freakin' walkin' library! You're all brain. And in that is you're failing." He bobbed his head toward the table behind him. "They taught you how to think, how to use that library of yours on the run. But they didn't teach you how to feel… and how not to feel." He stepped back until he was leaning against the table and crossed his arms over his chest. "Do you know what he will go through as his blood is drained from his body? What he'll feel as his life is sucked out of him drop by precious drop? What you'll feel as you watch it happen, knowing that you could have saved him?"

Reid couldn't help but glance at the barely conscious Special Agent Hotchner.

The man's eyes were close, but his lips were moving, still trying to encourage Reid.

The sheriff smiled. "Doctor…"

Dr. Wesslim didn't look up from her work as she explained "The average subject has about five liters of blood. The subject won't feel anything until he has lost a half liter or so. After that, his blood pressure will began to fall. The hands and feet will turn pale or even blue, and they will be cold and clammy. This will also effect the earlobes, nose, lips, and nail beds. The rest of the skin would have a grayish tinge and would be moist. The subject will become a little stuporous, sleepy, and lethargic. As the blood continues to drain, his breath will come faster and deeper. His pulse won't be felt in his extremities, and it will be difficult to take a blood pressure. His heart rate will increase as his body struggles to get oxygen, but his pulse will be weak. He will lose consciousness."

"Thank you, doctor." Jackson cut her off. He frowned at Reid. "My, she's a cold bitch, isn't she?"

Wesslim finally paused in her work at that, but, rolling her eyes, she turned her attention back to connecting the siphoning hose to the catheter.

Swallowing hard, Reid tore his eyes from Hotch. "I already told you… I'll help you. You don't need to hurt him any more."

Jackson shrugged. "This isn't to get you to help me. I already know you're going to help me." he answered.

The agent shook his had. "Then why…"

"Consider Agent Hotchner your hour glass." Jackson took Reid by the arm and began to direct him to the desk and the waiting computer. "Just incase you thought you had all the time in the world, that you could put it off until some rescue from your fantasies comes knocking on the door."

Agent Reid looked up at him. "Why are you doing this?" he demanded.

All signs of Jackson amusement disappeared. Setting a hand on the desk, he leaned forward and growled. "Because I am a strong and you are not. I am resourceful and you are not. I am smart and you are not. And, very soon, I will be rich and you will not." Snapping up right, he ordered "Get to work. 'Case your big, ol' brain hadn't figured it out yet, the clock is ticking." He tilted his head toward the table and the hostage agent. "Drip, drip." That said, he spun about and stomped toward the door.

Reid watched him go, flinching at the sound of the lock being slid into place.

J.J. was just turning down the hall heading for Garcia's office when suddenly the computer tech snatched her by the ponytail and pulled her back into the corner.  
"Ooow!" the agent cried, one hand reaching up to defend her hair, the other doubling up into a fist. What the hell…" she started, spinning about.

Garcia held up her hands. "Sorry, sorry." she quickly whispered. "But I had to get your attention without… you know… getting anyone else's… attention?"

Rubbing her sore head, J.J. frowned at her. "And you couldn't just wave a hand in the air or something less… painful?"

"Sorry." Garcia said again, wringing her hands.

J.J.'s head lifted, her own discomfort replaced with concern. "Is everything alright?" she wanted to know.

"Yes." the tech answered just a little too quickly. But then she was shaking her had. "I… I mean no… I…" She frowned. "Maybe… not…?" She looked up at the agent as if she might have the answer for that one.

J.J.'s eyebrows rose. Setting a calming hand on her friend's shoulder, she asked "Garcia, deep breath. What's wrong?"

Garcia closed her eyes and took a deep breath. "Okay… so, Agent Hotchner, he… before he left… he told me to… well, I'm not supposed to tell you, but… I mean he's in my office, and I might be in trouble… a little." She held up a thumb and forefinger to show just how much trouble. But, thinking again, she began to spread her arms.

"He?" J.J. grabbed her arms. "You mean Hotch? Do you know where he is? Garcia, is he alright?"

But the tech shook her head. "Noo-oo." she groaned as if it should be obvious. "Kruger Spence."

The agent paused. "Kruger Spence?" Then her eyes widen as the name rang a bell. "CIA Kruger Spence?" When Garcia nodded, J.J. wanted to know "What is he doing here?" Her eyes narrowed. "Garcia, what did you do?"

"Nothing!" the tech instantly defended herself. But then her head tilted slightly and she began to wring her hands. "I mean… well, Agent Hotchner, he told me to do a little poking around. And I was doing the search on Agent Gideon's computer when all hell broke loose." She frowned, her eyes dropping as she thought. "Must have been a Spider Web. Damn good one, too. Never saw it. I should have used a Fly. But who'd a thunk? Man, you gotta be hyper paranoid to lay out a Spider Web and, even then, you have to be hyper…"

"Why were you messing with Gideon's computer?"

Garcia glared up at her. "I told you! Hotchner told me…" She stopped suddenly, clamping her mouth shut.

J.J.'s eyes narrowed. "What?"

"I'm not supposed to say." Garcia admitted.

"Garcia…"

"Look! There's a big, ugly, mean super spy sitting in my, MY, office!" she practically yelled, before remembering she was supposed to be keeping quiet. Glancing around, she took a second to glare dangerously at an agent who veered a little too close in response to her raised voice. Then she leaned close to J.J. and whispered "Super Spy wants Reid's hard drives."

J.J. straightened up. "They can't have them." she answered, coldly. "They're part of an ongoing investigation…"

"You tell him that!" Garcia challenged.

The agent sighed. "Alright." She licked her lips, her mind racing. Just what the hell was the CIA up to? "What did you tell him?" she asked as she started down the hall again.

Garcia fell in step beside her. "Nothing… just gave him my James Bond pen and said I had to go pee."

J.J. glanced at her sharply. But then she smiled a little. "Huh… this should be interesting."


	11. Eleven

He leaned against the bus stop, flipping through the pages of his newspaper, looking just as innocent as an obviously guilty man could possibly look.

Sheriff Deputy Franklin had stopped at three bus stops, stood and waited, pretending to read the same newspaper. His eyes watched the passer-bys over the top of the paper only to snap away if any of them dared to glance his way. If someone looked just a little too long, he would snap his paper, fold it up until it resembled some map folding disaster, tuck it under his arm, and wander away while whistling Dixie.

Elle groaned. "You think this idiot has a clue where he's going?" she wondered into the microphone hidden just under her collar.

"He sure as hell better if we're going to find Reid and Hotch in time." Morgan's concern made his voice sound so deep over her ear piece that Elle had to stop herself from turning and checking on her partner.

Licking her lips, Elle allowed herself a moment of confidence. "We'll find them. They'll be alright." she whispered to Morgan. "You know those two. Reid's tougher than he looks. And have you ever seen Hotch with a hair out of place? Nothing's gonna ruffle his feathers!"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the com-link. Then Morgan's voice came back. "Heads up. He's on the move again."

Elle groaned again. A quick glance told her in which direction Franklin was going and she rose up from the garden bench and followed.

After a block or two, Morgan spoke again, his tone still betraying his concern. "He needs a leader. He can't function without someone telling him what to do. Without Hawkins telling him what to do, he'll go to whoever was giving Hawkins his orders."

"Jackson." Elle breathed. She couldn't help but picture the Sheriff as some sadistic bastard laughing as he gutted her friends for no other reason than to fulfill his sick, saccadic delusions of grandeur.

Don't think about them.

Don't think about him.

Focus on Franklin so they could catch that sadistic bastard before he did too much damage to Reid and Hotch.

That was the plan. Stick with it.

Franklin was standing on a corner, waiting for a break in the traffic. He tapped his foot impatiently, constantly glancing this way and that. In a huff, he hurried across the street, taking a swing at a car that came a little too close when he stepped out in front of it.

Elle quickened her step, wondering "Is he on to us?"

"No…" Morgan answered hesitantly. "He's too busy looking around to see anything."

"So… why's he headed for the hospital?"

"Hospital?" Morgan breathed. After a moment, he said quickly "Damn it! They had him the whole damn time!"

"What are you talking about?"

"I'm picking you up."

 

"Son of a bitch!" Kruger Spence cursed. "What the hell…?" he demanded of the growing ink splotch around his chest pocket.

JJ winced. "That would be the James Bond pen." she explained as she entered the office a step behind Garcia. "Should have clicked it that one last time."

Kruger shook his head angrily. "Why do you people always screw with my day?"

Garcia smirked. "A gift, really. It can't be learned. We're just born with it, this intense need to screw…" She stopped suddenly, her eyes narrowing. "Pen doesn't go off when you click it. It's set off by high powered magnets. Kinda a warning system…Son of a bitch!" She shoved pass the CIA agent and grabbed the nearest lap top. "You razed them! Razed the hard drives!"

"He did what?" JJ wanted to know.

"He's got a high powered magnet on him." the computer tech accused. "Wiped clean all the surface computers' memories." She snatched up a pen with a fluffy top and threatened him with it. "If you went anywhere near my mainframe…"

Spence waved a hand of dismissal, his attention on picking at the ink as if he could pluck the black from the white cotton.

"Agent Spence, I can arrest you for destroying evidence." JJ warned.

With a bored expression, Spence looked up at her. "What evidence?"

"What evidence?!" Garcia practically screeched. If it wasn't for JJ stepping between them, she just might have attacked the man with her fluffy, pink pen.

"Garcia, check Reid's computer." JJ told her friend.

After a glare at the man, Garcia opened a lap top and booted it up.

JJ crossed her arms and turned her full attention to the intruding agent. "You want to tell me what's going on?"

Spence chuckled. "If I wanted to tell you what's going on, if there's anything really going on, I would have told you by now."

"It's gone. Everything. Even his kitty pics. Razed. Toasted. Fried. Wiped clean." Garcia plopped down in her chair with a growl. Throwing a glare at Spence, she offered "Nice job, jackass."

Spence shrugged. "Don't know what you are talking about." he answered, before giving JJ his very best bull shit smile and ask "Where's Amanda?"

JJ smiled right back. "Amanda? Amanda who?"

The CIA agent put his hands on his hips. "Don't play, Agent. You folks stepped in a big ol' pile of shit. I'm just scraping it off for you."

"Yea?" Garcia huffed. "Who dumped the shit in the first place?"

Spence snapped his fingers at the women. "Amanda! Now!"

"Want us to sit up pretty while we're at it?"

"Garcia." JJ warned.

The computer tech looked up at her as if asking what she had done.

JJ shook her head. "Agent Spence, you walk in her, destroy evidence, then make demands? The only thing you're getting from us is a jail cell. You're under arrest."

Kruger Spence actually laughed. But, when neither women's expressions changed, he began to believe that the FBI agent might actually be serious. "You do not want lock horns with me, missy." he warned.

"Missy?" JJ repeated, her head tilting to one side.

Garcia giggled. "Oh, buddy, she's already kicked the ass of one CIA reject today."

"So!" Spence jabbed a finger at her over JJ's shoulder. "Amanda! Where is she?"

"So!" JJ snapped right back. "She is one of yours!?"

Spence's attention jerked back to the agent. He glared at her for a moment, calculating just who was winning here and who was losing. Coming to a conclusion, he shook a finger at JJ. "Anyone ever told you that you are very attractive?"

JJ's eyebrows raised. "Excuse me?"

Like a fight bell, the phone rang, sending the agents to their separate corners for the moment.

Garcia looked up at JJ. "Promise me: comes to a beat down, I wanna be there!"

"Answer the phone." JJ answered with a huff.

Grinning from ear to ear, Garcia hit the speaker button "Blond, mean, and Queen of the scene, what can I do for you?"

"Hey, pretty lady."

Garcia smiled. "Ah, my chocolate lover. Tell me something sweet." she purred.

"Garcia, Dr. Wesslim is about to get a call from the hospital. I need to know where she is."

"On it."

JJ leaned over her to speak into the phone. "Morgan, you have a lead?"

"Franklin went to the same hospital Reid was treated at. That doc, she knew that top secret drug. Why'd she know it? And why the only doctor who knew it happened to be working the odd hours at that particular hospital…"

"Wesslim?" Spence came out of his corner. "Troy Wesslim?"

JJ looked at him. "She's one of Dommas'?"

Spence shook his head. "She's a doc for hire. Type of girl that makes ice look like a hot rock. Bigger the dollar, bigger the torture. How the hell did she get involved? Though it makes sense. Hawkins would need someone from the outside to throw Dommas. Not even his own guys would go for that, the Senator being the big cheese and all."

"Sarah Dommas, the way she was killed…" JJ had a thought.

Spence nodded. "Sounds like Troy's work."

"And now she has Reid and Hotch." She closed her eyes, offering a silent prayer.

"Down in the peanut gallery." Garcia growled. "Magic being done here." Her fingers flew over her key board, bringing her main computer to life. Lists of numbers, maps, satellite coverage all came up on the varies screens around the room. After a few minutes, she smiled. "And…. Lady of Wonder, Lady of Might, this little lady has that bitch in sight."

Morgan's voice spoke again "Give me the address, girl. And have the troops meet us there, all lights and sirens."

"Agent Morgan, stay where you are. The CIA will take it from here." Spence ordered. Not waiting for the protest, he spun about and headed out the door, pulling his cell phone out as he went.

"Like hell!" Morgan snapped. "Who the hell is that, anyway? Garcia? JJ?"

"Hey!" JJ yelled, spinning about and chasing the CIA man out the door. "You have any idea of what under arrest means?"

"Hey!" Garcia called after. "I said I wanted to watch!"

"Garcia!" Morgan cried. "What is going on there?"

Stopping herself, the tech turned back to the phone. "Sorry, sweety. Texing you the address now. I'll get Gideon to meet you. Be careful."

"Always…"

"Hey, Garcia!" came Elle's voice from the phone. "If that's JJ going postal again, I want pictures!"

Garcia grinned. "Oh, sweety, I'm selling the rights to Vegas Fight Nights!"

Abby scratched the kitten behind the ears, earning herself a loud purr. Sighing her extreme boredom, she glanced to where Gideon sat at his desk, working on his computer. "This is a complete waste of time." she told him again. "If you want your man back, then you should put me back in the field. I am your best bet."

Gideon didn't bother to look up from his work as he answered "Isn't that a little like asking the fox to rescue the hen?"

The woman smiled and batted her eyes at him. "Now… are you calling me a fox? Or Hotchner a chicken?"

Sighing, Gideon finally turned to look at her. "How did you get Reid away from Jackson?"

Abby shrugged. "I didn't."

The agent waited for her to elaborate, but, when she didn't, he asked the next question. "When did you drug him, then?"

"When I picked him up." she answered.

Gideon frowned. "Picked him up?" He suddenly stiffened. "You're the one that kidnapped him in the first place. You dragged him into this!"

Abby feign a wince. "Did I forget to mention that?"

Gideon couldn't remember ever wanting, really wanting, to shoot someone before. "Who's side are you on?!" he demanded.

In a blink, the woman's humor vanished. "I'm on the American side." she explained in an icy calm tone. Setting Reid's cat on the couch, she began to roam the office. "You walk around your ivory tower with a loaded weapon trailing behind. And you didn't think someone would snatch him up? Didn't he ever tell you the statistics on folks who are killed by their own gun?"

"Reid is not a weapon!" Gideon snapped.

"Yes, he is!" Abby snapped right back. "He is a code breaker! Bred, born, and raised. Hell and pity on him, his children have a good chance of being code breakers too. It's genetics, Gideon. With enough time, there is no secret he can't decode." She dropped her eyes, letting her anger go. In softer tones, she told him "You take a gun off the street and you destroy it."

"Reid! Is! Not! A! Weapon!" He rose to his feet and leaned across his desk. "He's a human being. He has a mother and father. Friends."

"Even a cat." She waved a hand at the couch where Galen was sharpening his claws on the arm. "If it was any different, if he was different, he wouldn't be alive right now. I tried to make it so he would be left alone. If his file had been complete, if I had known about the autism, he wouldn't be in any danger now."

Gideon wanted to yell at her, choke her, do something to make her understand. Do something to end this crappy day. But he stopped himself. Taking a deep breath, he forced his desperation aside. Only cool, controlled heads were going to get his people out of this.

Abby ran her fingers through her hair. "The Senator knew that, if I got Reid, then we would have some control over what would happen to him. I would be close enough to influence what happened. That, once Jackson had a code breaker, he would lead us to the buyers." She shook her head. "We didn't know he went outside the unit."

Allowing the change of focus, Gideon asked "Why did he go outside the unit? Did he suspect you and Dommas?"

The woman shrugged. "More likely, he didn't trust anyone in the unit to do what he wanted done."

"That was?"

"Turning on the Senator." Abby shook her head. "We were all hand picked by the Senator. We were his people. People that would do what was necessary to protect our country." She paused, her eyes narrowing. "People you thought were to… aggressive?"

Gideon had profiled many CIA agents in his time, and, yes, several had been dismissed, retired, based on his conclusions. Conclusions that had put him at odds with Dommas. "If you fight a war by any means possible, you often lose what you were fight for." he said softly.

"Life? Liberty? Pursuit of happiness?" Abby smiled slightly. "Ever thought that the every day, free American have these, because people like us were willing to give ours up?"

"Huh." Gideon tilted his head in thought.

"What? Never thought of that?"

"No. I was just reminded of those videos made by suicide bombers. My beloved family, I blow myself up with the hope that I take out hundreds of our enemies so that my sons will only have to strap on smaller bombs."

Again Abby smiled. "Ironic, isn't it? But, is it unexpected? You fight fire with fire. Why not a terrorist with a terrorist?" She quickly held up a hand. "That's what Jackson told the troops. We needed money to continue the fight. And to get that money, we were going to have to break some rules."

Gideon frowned. "Dommas would not have gone for that."

"Thus the betrayal part of the story." She shook her head. "My orders were to go along, find out who was with us and who was with Jackson. And then the Senator and his wife disappeared. An hour later, the order went out to bring in Dr. Reid. I drugged him, making him useless. I thought Jackson would abandon him then. But he knew someone he could take the boy to."

"Apparently that would be Dr. Wesslim." JJ announced as she hurried to cut off Agent Spence. "Gideon, Morgan's found her."

Spence pushed past. "We are handling it!" he growled to the FBI agents, before turning to face Abby. "Hello, Amanda."

Abby smiled. "Spence, hey, how's it going? Still doing the comb over, I see."

Gideon was already on his feet and grabbing his gun from his desk drawer. "Let's move." he told his agent as he headed for the door.

Spence stared at him. "Do any of you listen? You are off the case. We are on. Go sit down, have a cup of Joe… pet a cat… explain to me why there's a cat here…"

Gideon barely glanced at him as he walked pass. "Kitchen down the hall on the left. You're welcome to some joe and some time with the cat. But we're going and we're finishing this."

"Agent Gideon, this is a CIA matter!" Spence yelled after him, but was distracted by Abby following the FBI agents. "Hey! You! You come back here!"

To his surprise, Abby spun about. But she paused only long enough to scoop up Reid's cat. "You're mean. You can't play with Galen." she told him, then hurried after Gideon.


	12. Twelve

He closed his eyes, desperate to push the outside world away… if only for a moment.

It was too much.

Just too much.

Code flashing, trying to see everything before it was gone. His concentration overrun by memories that came so quickly, so clear, each almost a physical blow. With every flash f a memory came a flash of emotion, spinning and whirling his head in a nauseating trip.

This wasn't working.

He couldn't think.

He couldn't see.

He couldn't breath.

He just couldn't!

"By all means," spoke up Dr. Wesslim. "take a nap. I'm sure Agent Hotchner understands."

Reid opened his eyes again. Taking a deep breath, he turned in his chair so he could see where Hotch laid, the doctor standing over him, checking his pulse.

"Can… can I talk to him?" Reid asked.

Wesslim glanced at him. "It's your time." She frowned. "No, actually it's his time…" She might have said more, but the beeper in her pocket went off. Throwing him a glare, she stepped away so she could speak privately on her cell phone.

Reid watched her for a moment, making sure she was out of arms reach, before crossing the room to Hotchner's side.

He looked so pale. His finger tips and lips were starting to turn blue. His eyelids flickered. His skin glistened with sweat.

Reid almost wanted to touch him. Just to make sure he was really there and not just another discolored, out of place memory. But he was afraid to. If he wasn't there, then Reid was alone, and lost, and trapped in his mind. And, yet, if he was there, really there, then Hotch was going to die… die because of him and his stupid, stupid… well, whatever it was that got him into this mess, he was sure it was stupid!

Closing his eyes again, Reid tried to block out the world. Leaning over his friend, he whispered "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"Not… not your fault."

The young agent's eyes snapped open, startled to see Hotch blinking up at him. He couldn't help but be thrilled, if only for a breath.

He was weak, but alive, holding on.

But for how long?

For what?

"Agent Hotchner." Reid rested a hand on the man's shoulder, trying to offer some comfort for what he was going to tell him. "I.. I can't do what he wants. I can't give him the file."

Hotchner's eyes closed again and he swallowed. "Hotch. You call me Hotch." he reminded the boy.

Reid leaned back. "What?"

The older man looked up at him. "You call me Hotch. Remember?" He sighed. "I want you to remember me." he almost begged.

Like a last request, Reid couldn't help but think. Licking his lips, he whispered "Hotch."

Hotch managed to smile at him "Reid, you need to get out of here. You need to…"

"I can't leave you!"

"You can't… can't help me." Hotch had to stop to catch his breath.

Everything felt so… tingly. Almost felt like he was falling. Endless falling, the rushing air filling his ears, stealing his breath. Darkness closing in on him, blanketing the sky.

"Reid." he gasped, clutching to that one whisp of hope. He didn't have much time left. He had make Reid understand. Had to make him go, leave him. "You have to go. Find a way out. Reid… Jason… he'll find you."

The young agent shook his head. "They'll kill you."

"Reid, please… you can't help me." Hotch squeezed his eyes closed, trying to refocus them. Damn world was getting all fuzzy. "Can't help me… here. Get out. Get help."

Reid paused.

Get help.

The others were coming.

He had to get help.

But they would kill Hotch as soon as Reid stopped cooperating.

Reid shook his head. "I'm not leaving you." he promised.

They were just down the dirt road from the little back woods clinic. Already half a dozen FBI agents were there, donning vests and checking their guns as Morgan explained the floor plan to them. Morgan and Elle already had their vests on, their guns checked and ready to go when Gideon pulled up.

Abby and Spence followed close behind the lead agent, JJ behind them, keeping both under a suspicious glare.

"Morgan." Gideon greeted as he joined his agent.

"Gideon, we found them" Morgan reported with a glance at those following.

"What is she doing here?" Elle practically spat at Abby.

"Eeeeow, hiss, hiss." Abby answered, holding a hand up like a cat scratching.

"Oh, shut up." JJ suggested, pushing pass and joining Elle. She handed her vest to Elle while she pulled her hair up in a ponytail. As JJ prepared, both women stepped away so they could exchange whispered opinions on this and that's, throwing glares at Abby.

"Okay." Morgan breathed. But, deciding it was safer to stay out of female wars, he turned his full attention to the mission at hand. "Dr. Wesslim worked out of a clinic sponsored by our favorite Senator, Dommas. She showed up at the hospital an hour after Hotch and I got the call about Reid. She volunteer to relieve another doctor who had sudden. unexplained food poisoning. Clinic has been closed for six months now, but has recently received some fresh supplies. And!" He waved a hand to the west. "We're twelve miles from the Dommas home. They would have to drive right by that hunting shack to get from there to here." He nodded down the dirt road. "There are two trucks parked out front, one being Jackson's gray hummer."

Gideon took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Any idea how many are inside?"

His agent shook his head. "Doors and windows boarded up. Couldn't get a good look inside without yanking boards, and I didn't want to make a lot of noise until we had back up."

Elle reentered the conversation then, adding "I put a call in, but everyone was spread out, looking for our boys. It's going to take a bit to get a force here."

"We don't want a force." Morgan pointed out.

Gideon agreed. "We have two agents in there. We need cool, controlled heads going in."

"And that is reason six billion and one you need to back down and leave this to us!" Spence slammed his fist down on the hood of Morgan's vehicle, demanding attention. "For the last time: this is a CIA matter! If you go in there, you will all, all of you, be up on charges of…"

Abby rolled her eyes. "Thank god it's the last time."

"Screw CIA!" Morgan blew. "If you hadn't let some rouge unit loose Reid wouldn't be in this mess. And if the CIA is so hot to deal with this, why'd they send only one agent?"

Abby rocked back on her heals. "Because, they don't want to stop it." she explained.

"What?" Morgan growled.

Spence glared at the woman who just smiled back.

So Gideon elaborated. "CIA doesn't want Jackson. They're after the buyer."

"Of the Alpha/Omega file?" Morgan huffed. "What the hell's the deal with that thing anyway?"

"No." Abby bobbed her head. "Of the code breaker."

Elle couldn't believe it. "You're gonna sit back and let them sell Reid off to highest bidder?"

Spence sighed. "They can get a code breaker from anywhere if they looked hard enough. Genius kids have been coveted and trained by world governments for years. Same governments are falling like rocks and selling their kids off like hotcakes to fund arms and drugs and all sorts of bad, bad things. We need to stop the people who would use them." He shook his head. "These kids are gonna be on the market as long as there is a market for them."

"What about Reid?" Morgan challenged. "What about Hotch? Just gonna let whatever happens happen?"

"Some times serving and protecting means sacrificing…"

"Blah, blah, blah." Abby interrupted. "We gonna do this? Or what?"

Gideon took her hand in an almost friendly manner, earning him a smile from her. But then he slapped a cuff around one wrist.

Abby frowned. "Jason." she purred. "What are you doing? Don't you trust me?"

As he locked the cuffs to the handle of the car, he told her "I trust you. I know exactly what you'll do if you get a hold of Reid. Which is why you are staying here." He looked at Spence. "I understand the CIA wants to stop the buying of code breakers. But not with my people. You can help or…"

"Or you can stay out of the way." Morgan growled.

Spence glared at each of them, but, finally accepting that he wasn't going to change their minds, he threw up his hands. "Jackson doesn't surrender. He might be a lunatic, but he's no coward. And he will not give Reid up. He will kill the kid before that happens."

"What the hell is going on here?" Jackson demanded as he slammed his way through the door.

Reid winced, grabbing Hotch's arm. "I won't leave you!" he insisted.

"Wesslim! You let them talk?" Jackson continued to rage. He grabbed Reid by the shoulder and threw him back to his computer.

"My beeper keeps going off." the doctor protested. "I have to respond."

Jackson's eyes narrowed. "You've been getting phone calls?"

Wesslim stiffened. "Well, if you would hire better thugs, I wouldn't be getting phone calls."

"What are you talking about?"

"Franklin." she explained. "The blubbering idiot stumbled into the hospital and had them page me." She held up her pager just as it began beeping again. "It has been going off every two minutes since."

The sheriff tilted his head to one side, then his eyes went big. "You stupid bitch." he groaned.

Reid actually smiled. "Should have seen that one coming, huh, Jackson?"

The man slowly turned to glare at his prisoner.

"See what?" Wesslim wanted to know.

"They're tracking you." Reid supplied. When the doctor just gave him a dumbfounded look, he went on. "Every time your beeper receives a signal, it can be located." He shrugged. "Welcome to post 9-11."

Jackson threw a finger at the woman. "Smash it!" he ordered. He pointed at Hotch. "Kill him!" Then he stomped over to Reid and slammed the laptop close. Tucking it under his arm, he grabbed Reid.

"You said you wouldn't kill him!" Reid snapped, jerking his arm free.

"And if your great and mighty brainiacs had let it be, we'd have walked out of here without putting a bullet in his pretty head." Jackson answered. "Ain't life just crappy for him?" He made a grab for the agent again.

But Reid ducked under the arm, twisting around, behind the man, and giving him a shove.

With a curse, Jackson slammed head first into the wall, dropping the laptop.

The computer smashed on the floor, breaking in two.

"Son of a bitch!" Jackson roared. Spinning around, he slammed the back of his knuckles across Reid's jaw, dropping him to the floor. "You little piss!" he raged, kicking at the downed agent.

Air exploded from Reid's lungs as the toe of the Sheriff's boot caught him in the gut.

"Great!" Wesslim threw up her hands. "It's broken. What now?"

Gasping, Reid managed to chuckle. "Even your smart ones are stupid as a rock." he pushed, trying to get Jackson good and angry. "No wonder you were so easy to take down. FBI knew about you for what? A day? And they've already got you. How stupid can you be?"

If he could make Jackson mad enough, he just might win… in a round about way. The man would either be too distracted beating the crap out of him to make a run for it, or he was going to beat Reid to death. Either way, he wasn't going to get what he wanted.

"Shut! The! Fuck! Up!" Jackson snarled, kicking Reid with each word.

The agent collapsed on the floor, coughing, struggling for air.

"We need to get out of here!" Wesslim insisted as her pager went off again. She threw it away from her as if it had burned her.

"All falling apart." Reid panted. "Spy training these days, huh?"

Again, Jackson pointed at Hotch. "Kill him!" He grabbed Reid. "We'll wait for you in the car."

"No…" Reid gasped. "No, he won't. Sell me and keep the money all for himself."

Wesslim stopped. She turned her head to glare at her employer. "You would leave me, wouldn't you?" She shook her head. "Bastard." she snarled, taking a menacing step toward them.

Jackson simply drew his gun and shot her. He didn't bother to watch her fall as he dragged Reid out of the room and down the hall. "See what I have to deal with? There is absolutely no one anymore, anywhere, that can think! Really!" He slammed his prisoner against the walls as he dragged him along. "You don't know how long I've been working on this. And to have is all screwed up because of a couple of stupid armatures…"

Reid tried to swing at the man, only to be slammed against the wall again. His lips split and blood trickled down his chin.

This time Jackson held him there, his hand pressed against the back of the agent's head. "Keep up, brainiac. I will kill you rather than let some half-witted Fumbling Bureau of Idiocy waste you away." With that, he threw Reid down the hall, slamming open the back door and outside.

Morgan kicked in the door, then quickly stepped aside, giving Elle and Spence the space needed to storm through the door.

This was the fifth door they had busted through. At every door there was the slightest hesitation, hoping that behind that door would be their friends, healthy and unscathed, fearing it would them, dead or dying. There had been signs of activity here and there. Tables had been cleaned for use. A half filled coffee pot. A lamp left on. A file with pictures of the BAU team members. A newly opened box of brand new syringes.

"Clear." Elle called after a quick look.

"Clear." the CIA agent confirmed.

"No." Gideon breathed as he walked into the room. "It isn't." His eyes focused on curtain across the far wall. Not daring to look in any other direction, not wanting anything to distract him, he crossed the room and took a hold of the curtain.

His agents raised their weapons.

Closing his eyes, Gideon prayed. Then he pulled open the curtain.

"Oh, my god." JJ gasped. "Hotch!"

Gideon opened his eyes.

Behind the curtain had been a one way mirror, peering into another room. In the room Hotch laid on a silver table. His shirt was gone. He was strapped down. A line trailed from his neck down to a drain. A bandage stained with blood was taped to his arm. He was so pale, he looked dead.

"Where's the door?" Morgan demanded, glancing around. But the only door was the one they had come through.

"Step back." Gideon ordered, taking aim at the top corner of the window. His team moved quickly, out of the way, and the lead agent fired.

The window shattered, sending little shards flying through the room.

Morgan was instantly climbing through, ignoring the glass cutting into his hands as he hopped the sill.

"Careful!" Spence snapped, blocking Elle's and JJ's way. He yanked off his coat and used it to knock the shards out of the way.

Morgan barely glanced at the body on the floor before skidding to Hotchner's side. "Hey, Hotch, man." he called softly, hoping, praying for an answer. He hesitated when reaching for his neck to find a pulse. Like busting through the doors, it could go either way. But, grinding his teeth, he forced himself to check.

So faint he had to close his eyes and concentrate to feel it, but there was a pulse.

Morgan nearly collapsed with relief.

"Stop the blood flow!" Gideon yelled as he hurried around the bed. Not waiting for Morgan to react, he grabbed a clean bandage from the sterile tray next to the bed. Holding it against Hotch's neck, he pulled the IV.

Hotch responded with a low moan, his head turning away.

"Shh." Gideon whispered, leaning close to his friend. "We got you, Hotch. We got you."

"What… what did they do to him?" JJ couldn't understand.

"Draining his blood." Elle answered. "That's what they did to Sarah Dommas."

Morgan looked over his shoulder. "JJ, get us a helicopter. He's lost a lot of blood."

JJ was already on her cell phone.

Spence crouched down beside the body on the floor. "Troy Wesslim." he observed. "Guess we can knock her off the no fly list." Standing up again, he looked around the room. "So? Where's geek boy?" he wondered.

Gideon's head snapped up. "Reid." Glancing around, he saw an open door around the corner from the window they had climbed through. "Elle, keep pressure…" he started to say, but she was already there, taking his place.

"I got him." she assured.

Gideon ran out the door, Morgan a step behind.

Jackson spun about at the sound of the gun shot. "Shit." he cursed. Sure, they were far enough from the clinic that it would take a search team to find them, but, gun shot means they had found Agent Hotchner. Which meant that search team wasn't too far behind.

On his knees again, trying to catch his breath, Reid tried to smile at him. But, his split and swollen lips forced him to wince instead. "What? Can't out think your way out of this?" He chuckled. "Sorry. Forgot. You couldn't think your way out of a wet, paper…" His head slammed back as Jackson, once again, struck him.

Falling back in the dirt, Reid found himself staring up at the sky, wondering if he was seeing flashes of light from head trauma… or was someone setting off fireworks?

"Well, you're not going to get far that way." Abby noted as she stepped out of the trees and onto the trail in front of them. "I mean, he might be a little guy, but he's still a grown fella. Throw him over your shoulder, and you won't make it to your back up car before sundown."

"Amanda." Jackson hissed. His gun came up.

Reid kicked, his foot catching his captor at the knee.

Crying out, Jackson's leg went out from under him, his shot going wild.

Abby's shot was true, the bullet catching Jackson between the eyes.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

For what seemed forever, Reid laid where he was, staring at the dead body that had been his tormentor for… how long had it been? And now it was over. Jackson was gone. Wesslim was gone. Now he could just lay there and simply be left alone.

But then Abby crouched down beside him, blocking his view. With a long nailed finger, she turned his head so that he was looking up at her. "You and I… we need to have ourselves a private little chat."

Gideon and Morgan had just reached the back door when they heard the gun shots. All thought to safety was gone and the two ran down the path.

By the time they had reached the spot all that was there was Jackson. His eyes open, his face contorted in rage. One hand clutched his gun, the other reached out as if trying to keep a hold of something… or someone.

But, whatever, whoever it might have been was gone without a trace.

Morgan threw up his hands. "What happened? What now? Did the buyers get him?" he wanted to know as he spun around, Tired and desperate, all he could think to do was keep looking.

But Gideon could only shake his head. Dropping to his knees, he squeezed his eyes close.

This was it.

He had ran out of time.

He had failed.

He had lost Reid.

"Gideon?" Morgan called to him, feeling his own panic rise at the sight of the man, the mentor of the BAU.

Jason Gideon opened his eyes and looked up at him. In a tone void of emotion, he explained "Abby has him. She is going to kill Reid."


	13. Thirteen

_Lost in a Memory_

_Conclusion_

_He leaned on the his forearms on the hood of the truck, his head hung, his eyes closed. His hands clutched together so tight they shook. His vest was dropped on the ground beside him, discarded in frustration._

_Special Agent Jason Gideon looked defeated._

_He looked how Morgan felt._

_Morgan had wanted to go over to the truck and do something to make the man look up, look around, say something. But what was there to say?_

_FBI search teams had been tarring up every inch of ground between the clinic and the Dommas home for over four hours without a hint of hope. They had torn panels off the walls of the clinic, seeking out hiding spots, crawl spaces, anywhere anything could be hidden that might tell them where Reid was._

" _Morgan." Elle called as she walked up to him. "How's he doing?" Elle wondered, tilting her head to where Gideon leaned against the truck._

_Morgan looked over his shoulder at the older agent again. "Man, I think he's falling apart. If we don't find Reid, healthy and alive, he's going to have another break down." He turned back to Elle, shaking his head. "And I don't think he'll come out of it this time."_

_Elle ran her hands through her hair. "Then we find him." she said, doing her very best to sound like saying it was all they needed to get the job done. Just incase it wasn't, she offered her friend a smile. "Come on."_

_Gideon finally looked up when he heard the two approach. "Hotch?" he asked._

_Holding up her cell phone, Elle answered "JJ called. Hotch is gonna be alright. Lost a lot of blood, but he's awake and raring to go. She's picking up his wife now."_

_Gideon nodded slightly. Then he looked at Morgan._

" _He's not here." Morgan answered the unasked question. "Just double, triple checking now just because no one really wants to give up." He shrugged. "We have agents at the Sheriff office, going through every file and computer… and coming up empty. If Jackson had anything stashed away, it isn't there. It isn't here. It isn't in his home. It isn't in the twelve mile between here and Dommas'. And it isn't at Dommas'." He stopped when he realized his voice was beginning to rise with frustration. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath, calming himself before continuing "He had fifteen deputies. Eight are looking legit, but they're in custody until we're sure. Four others were found with bullets in the back of the head. Three others are in the wind."_

" _Sounds like Jackson did some cleaning house before Abby got to him." She could almost thank Abby for shooting that bastard, if it wasn't for the fact that Elle hated Abby as much._

" _Or Abby did." Gideon mumbled. He had no doubt that te girl was more assasine than anything else. She never stopped until the job was done. Just so happen the job today was Reid._

" _Thing is we don't know if the missing three were with Jackson or Abby. And we still don't know where Dommas is, or if he's even alive. And the CIA has disappeared and not taking our calls." Morgan admitted._

" _That little weasel Spence ran out on us?" Elle huffed._

_Morgan nodded. "Along with the busted up laptop."_

" _So," Gideon spoke up. "We don't even have that lead. We don't have any lead. We have exactly nothing."_

_His two agents exchanged glances, not entirely sure what to do or what say. They'd profiled and hunted down hundreds of insane killers in their time. And this was the first time they were left, standing, helpless, with nothing left to do but…_

_The cell phone in Elle's hand rang._

_She glanced down at it, reading the display, then looked up at Gideon. "You're calling me."_

_Gideon frowned. Taking the phone, he answered it with the speaker on. "Abby?"_

_"Ah, sweet Jason, you hurt my feelings. Did you really think a pair of handcuffs were going to keep me in my place?"_

"Abby, where's Reid?"

_"What? No how do you dos and don'ts? Not even a thanks for taking care of Jackson?"_

"Thanks for shooting the bastard!" Elle snapped. "Where the hell is Reid?!"

Gideon quickly held up his hand, silencing her.

Angrily, Elle crossed her arms over her chest, her hands clenched in tight fists. She was so sick of this damn hide & seek spy crap.

" _Amazing how, with one little hand gesture, you can shut that trap."_

"She can see us." Morgan hissed, spinning about, eyes scanning the surrounding area.

" _Derek Morgan, aren't you the loyal bull dog?"_

Gideon stepped away from the two agents. He looked at the phone as if Abby was standing right there in front of him. "I'm tired. I want to go home, Abby. I want to get drunk and pass out. I want my friend." Gideon admitted. "Please, Abby, where is Reid?" He closed his eyes as if he couldn't stand seeing himself ask what he was going to ask next. "Is he alive?"

There was a long moment of silence.

"Abby?"

" _You know I'm right. He can be used as a weapon. I had to take care of him."_

Gideon grabbed the front of the truck to steady himself. He hadn't expect it to hit him in the gut like that. He already knew she would kill him as soon as she had him. He had already been prepared for her to say he was dead. Still, he felt the words come at him as if… as if heaven and hell was beating down on him with all the rage and dissapoinment they had to offer.

" _Don't look so defeated, Jason. The Senator never meant him any harm, and, at the end of the day, I still work for Senator Dommas."_ There was a laugh.  _"For three hours you guys have been tarring this place right down to the building code, and not one of you thought to, oh, I don't know, look in the back seat of your own car!"_

Gideon's eyes snapped open. "Go!" he ordered Morgan and Elle, but the two had already spun about and were running to where their vehicles were parked only ten yards down the dirt road, right where they had parked them when they had first arrived.

Morgan nearly tore the back passenger door off. "Son of a bitch." he gasped at what he found inside.

Reid laid across the back seat, bruised, bloody, unconscious, but alive.

"We need an ambulance!" Elle yelled to the agents that had followed, attracted by their sudden movements.

"Damn the ambulance." Morgan growled. "Get in! I'm driving!"

" _He's alive. Drugged again. Sorry about that. I told him he wouldn't remember anything about the last few days. But, considering the options here…"_

Gideon looked down at the cell phone. "Why?" he wanted to know.

Again there was a pause.

"Abby?"

No answer.

So he changed the question. "Abby, where's Dommas?"

" _Safe. And don't go hunting for our missing men. They won't be bothering you. Just… just do me a favor?"_

"Depends."

That earned him a chuckle from the phone.  _"Special Agent Jason Gideon, honest to the end."_  Another pause.  _"Don't make me wrong about that kid. I don't want to get chewed out for not ending a threat when I had the chance."_

"Gideon! You coming?" Morgan wanted to know as he climbed into the driver's seat.

Gideon took a step toward the car, but stopped and looked down at the phone again, as if he might be leaving her behind.

" _Hang up the phone, Gideon. Go take care of your team."_  Incase he couldn't do it himself, the phone clicked, signaling her ending the call.

* * *

Hotch listened to the story. A part of him wanted to jump up and pace the room, frustrated as hell that, after all that, they didn't have one boss in jail. The rest of him just wanted to groan, pull a pillow over his face, and stay there for a week or four.

Gideon walked back and forth across the foot of Hotch's hospital bed, bouncing his son in his arms and speaking to the child as if the whole tale was all about trolls under bridges and knights in shiny armor. "And, waiting at the front desk when we arrived, was my cell phone."

"Abby got here before you did." Hotch concluded. "Who is she? Where' Dommas? Is there still a rouge unit out there? Are there any questions we have answers to?"

"Three." his wife spoke up. When the two men looked at her, she smiled. "You, Aaron, are alive, home, and safe. Agent Reid is alive, home and safe." She walked across the room to stand in front of Gideon and held out her arms. "And that smell?… that would be a dirty diaper. May I?"

"Ah." Gideon held out the baby with the best icky face he could come up with without cracking a smile.

The mother took her child and, with a glance at her husband, slipped into the bathroom.

Gideon watched them until the door closed before he offered a smile at Hotch. "You have beautiful family, Aaron."

Hotch's eyes narrowed. " _Is_  Reid safe?" he wanted to know, not allowing the subject to be changed. "Jason, you knew what was going on… or at least part of it. You not telling me… we walked right into a trap."

"I didn't know about Jackson…" Gideon protested.

"You knew something!" his agent snapped. He stopped and took a moment to calm himself. All getting angry would do is give him another headache and a tag team of nurse and wife chasing Gideon away.

"I didn't know how it influenced what was going on." Gideon admitted.

"That's why you should have talked to me." He started to wave an arm, but the IV pulled and he winced. "This is my team, my people. Jason, what they did to Reid…"

Gideon ran a hand over his face. "I know. I know." he mumbled. He turned away for a moment. "Abby was right, Aaron. This country is protected by secrets. We're all protected by secrets. We all keep them." He turned back to look at Hotch. "And Reid is a code breaker."

"That doesn't make him a weapon." Hotch reminded him. "We're profilers, Jason. We're all code breakers. It's our job to reveal secrets." He took a deep breath, and let it out slowly. "We need to make sure this doesn't happen again."

Gideon nodded. "Morgan and Garcia are going to take a look at Reid's home security and…"

"I mean the secrets… between you and me. We're a team, remember?"

Gideon met Hotch's eyes. He tilted his head to one side. "I will remember, Hotch." he promised. He smiled as Mrs. Hotchner and son returned. "Get some rest. Enjoy your family." With that, he left the room.

A few doors down was Reid's room.

Gideon wasn't surprised to find the rest of team all crammed into the room. What did surprise him was that Reid was the only one awake.

Morgan was stretched out on the empty bed, Garcia tucked in beside him, her head resting on his chest. Elle and JJ had taken the chairs. Elle's head laid back against the wall behind her, snoring softly, Galen, the kitten purring in her lap. JJ managed to curl up almost completely in her chair, her legs tucked beneath her, her head resting on her folded arms.

With a smile and a raised eyebrow, Gideon glanced at the wounded man of the room.

Reid held a finger to his lips, warning him to be quiet.

Gideon chuckled. Carefully closing the door behind him, he walked over and sat on the side of Reid's bed. "Remember me?" he asked in a whisper. His smile faded when Reid looked at him with a black eye and slightly swollen jaw.

The young agent started to smile back, but winced when his split lips protested. Gingerly, he touched them as if checking to see if they were bleeding again.

Gideon plucked an ice cube from a cup on the bed stand and offered it to his young friend. "You alright?"

Foregoing the smile for a nod, Reid took the offered relief and held it to his lips. "Smart kid in an LA high school, remember? Jackson kicked only slight harder than Hotch."

The older agent couldn't help but grin. He glanced at the sleeping team. "They're tired."

"They haven't slept in awhile."

Again Gideon raised one eye brow, but this time the amusement was gone. "What do you remember?"

Reid blinked and looked away. "Not much since Friday. Morgan said I was drugged."

"Alpha/Omega mean anything to you?"

"Beginning and end. Greek letters." Reid answered, frowning at the odd question. Knowing he was being tested, he admitted "I know I saw things that… bad things… but I don't remember what they were." He shrugged. "Probably for the best I don't remember, right?"

Gideon looked at him long and hard, before, finally, smiling. Patting Reid's legs, he agreed "For the best." Standing up, he suggested "You should get some sleep too." He started for the door.

"Gideon?"

He stopped and looked back.

Reid was looking up at him, really looking at him, as if he was trying to see inside his head. "Alpha/Omega file… Did you recruit me because I was in that file? Or was I in that file because you recruited me?"

Gideon's heart stopped. For a very long time he stared at him, searching for an answer. Then he gave the only answer he could: "File? What file? Do you remember a file?"

Reid blinked at him, before he managed another shrug. "I don't remember anything about a file." he lied.

Jason Gideon smiled. "That's for the best."

Lost in a Memory

The End

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To the Reader:
> 
> Sorry this took so long to wrap up. Life and war got in the way. But I'm back now and hope to do a lot more writing in my varies fandoms.
> 
> But before I go, I just wanted to dedicate Lost in a Memory to all the reviewers that hung in there with me. Without them, this story would never have gotten pass….
> 
> "Red and blue lights flickered on top of the sheriff's car, lightening the morning with a rotation of color."
> 
> \- The Chronicler


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